Bella's Naughty Idea
by marjojo02
Summary: Bella: "It occurred to me that there was another way for you to taste my blood, without dying, and without needles. And I think I might like it too..." Rated M, adult readers only. Period stuff ends after chapter 4 and it gets even better!
1. Mature Adults

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer does. Alas.

Setting: Between Eclipse and Breaking Dawn

I know many of you must be unsatisfied with Stephenie Meyer's response to the question about Bella's period. Here's my answer.

Warning: Chapter 3 and beyond will contain adult material.

Bella's Point of View

Edward and I were studying in the dining room while Charlie was still at work. Or, at least, he was pretending to study and I was watching him pretend to study.

Unexpectedly, I felt a familiar wetness between my legs. My monthly visitor was here early, and I wasn't prepared the way I normally was. I stood up quickly, hoping to get away to the bathroom before Edward noticed. Of course, his vampire senses and impossibly fast reflexes kept me from getting away.

"Are you bleeding?" Edward asked, grabbing my hand to look for cuts. I knew he would smell it, and it would be harder for him, not to mention awkward, and that was why I always made certain to use a tampon before I even began to bleed.

"Well, yes…" I said. Finding no cut, he grabbed my other hand to look.

"What happened? There's no knife or even a sharp pencil."

"You can't see it."

"It'll be ok, Bella, just let me help,"

"It's under my clothes."

His eyes widened. "How did you get cut through your clothes?"

"Just let me go to the bathroom," I mumbled, blushing.

"Oh," he dropped my hand, more flustered than I'd ever seen him. Glad to be able to escape, I ran to the bathroom.

* * *

I took my time in the bathroom, in no hurry to face Edward again. Why did he even have to ask? He'd been to medical school, for God's sake! He should have been able to put things together. By now he should have figured out what it meant when my scent changed that way.

But more importantly, why should he react that way when he does understand? He'd spent a hundred years listening to peoples' deepest, most private thoughts, and he was still stuck on this taboo? The situation was ridiculous.

We were adults, engaged to be married, and we were planning to have sex soon, while I'm still human. We needed to be able to talk about normal bodily functions like grown-ups. It was especially important because this particular aspect of my sexual health could have a direct impact on him, because of his own condition.

The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got. Maybe if we could actually communicate about this issue, I wouldn't have to take such precautions. I didn't really enjoy inserting a tampon two days before there was anything for it to absorb.

And another old idea crept back into my head, one that had made me giggle and blush when I first thought of it—sitting next to him in Biology class the first month after we'd fallen in love. I had never been so glad that he couldn't read my thoughts! Maybe it was time to make a proposal, now that the subject had been broken. I went back into the kitchen, ready to confront him.

* * *

Edward didn't look up from his book when I came in. I think he was hoping to act like the whole thing had never happened.

"Edward, look at me."

He complied. When he saw the stern look on my face, he apologized and changed the subject back to our homework.

"Edward, we need to talk about this. I've been wanting to for a while."

"About what?"

I rolled my eyes. I couldn't believe he was playing dumb. "You know what. If we're mature enough to be engaged, we should be able to talk about a normal human body process like adults."

"Right," he said, looking straight ahead, still tense.

I sat down, touching his arm. "I've been wondering, is it harder for you? When it's that time of the month for me?"

He shrugged. "A little. It's not the same as…your other blood. Not as…fresh."

"Well, that's good, I guess. I'd feel bad if it made things very difficult. I wouldn't want to have to stay away from you one week a month."

"I wouldn't want that either."

Edward looked up and I heard footsteps on the porch. Charlie.

"We'll talk more tonight," I whispered. His eyes widened. I felt sure that if he could blush, he would be redder than I've ever been. He didn't stay long that afternoon.


	2. Conversation with Alice

Conversation with Alice

A/N: Thanks so much for the positive reviews! I'm glad I'm not the only one with a dirty mind!

Edward's Point of View

I tried to calm myself on the way home, knowing my family would be able to sense my unease. I hoped Jasper and Alice were busy, they were the most perceptive.

No such luck. Alice and Jasper were cuddling on the living room couch. I tried to sneak by and go upstairs, but Jasper called out to me, "What's up with you?"

Alice's amused smile told me she'd foreseen what had happened at Charlie's house. I glared at her. Why hadn't she warned me?

"Bella and I had an—embarrassing conversation." I explained for Jasper's benefit.

"What happened?" he prodded.

"I smelled—her blood…and I didn't think…"

"She's on her period." Alice said bluntly.

"Yes." I flinched.

"So what's the big deal?" Jasper asked.

"I questioned her about it." Jasper's gift was starting to work on me; I felt relaxed enough to tell the story. "I thought she was hurt. I kept asking her and asking her…"

Alice laughed aloud. "You didn't realize? How thick-headed are you?"

"I mean, I know it happens, and I've smelled it on her before, but today I just didn't put it together…"

Alice rolled her eyes. "You hear girls' thoughts all day at school and you can smell blood types from across the cafeteria. How can you not have the information you'd need to allow Bella to be discreet?"

"I don't know, I just had a—moment of absent-mindedness, I guess."

"If you had to pretend to use the ladies' room like Rose and I do…"

"I know, I know—"

"Did you know that they sometimes synchronize? Sometimes it's like every girl in school is on the rag at the same time. Once we hadn't been hunting in almost three weeks, and Rose went in the bathroom and it was full of girls changing pads—"

"Spare the details, please, Alice."

"She ran out of there so fast the track coach wanted to talk to her the next day!"

Jasper laughed. "You have to admit, it is funny, Edward."

"I'm sure it is for you." I sighed. Suddenly, I remembered what Bella had said just before Charlie walked in: "We'll talk more tonight." She wanted to continue this humiliating conversation! I groaned. "And the worst part is, it's not even over!"

"Actually," Alice giggled. "that might be the _best_ part." Immediately she began reciting multiplication tables in her head.

"You—you know what she's planning! Tell me!"

Her smile was mischievous. "And let you prepare yourself, so you can be all suave when she tells you? Or so you can get some objections ready and turn her down? Of course not."

"C'mon, Alice!"

"I will promise you this: you'll like it."

"But—what about her? Will she be ok? What did you see?"

"She'll be fine! She won't be in any danger. And if you're as…attentive as you normally are, I think she'll like it too."

What was that supposed to mean? "Attentive?" I whispered.

Jasper grinned broadly and clapped me on the shoulder. "You know. Show her a good time." He seemed to have understood exactly what Alice meant, but his thoughts were full of incoherent glee.

What could they possibly mean? I racked my mind for more clues from their cryptic comments. "Why would I turn her down?" I asked Jasper.

"Cause you're stupid sometimes," he replied, chuckling. "That's why you would." He followed Alice out.

He had a point there. I remembered the mouthwatering scent that had caused my mind to go so completely blank, and groaned at the thought of lying near Bella all night surrounded by that delicious smell. How could I ever resist her?

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	3. Bella's Naughty Idea

Author's Note: Judging from some of the reviews of the first chapter, I'm afraid some readers might not be expecting what I'm about to do here. Most comments were about how funny the first chapter was, and this one has a couple cute moments, but the focus here is more on romance than humor. Please only read on if you want something erotic and a bit…raw.

Warning: NC-17 adults-only material ahead.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Bella's Naughty Idea

That night I was nervous, rehearsing what I'd say, how I'd present the idea. I dressed in my favorite pajamas, a simple tank top and comfortable pair of pajama pants. I couldn't concentrate on the science fiction novel I pretended to read while waiting for him. It seemed like hours before I heard him come through the window.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied, still over by the window.

"C'mere," I said, patting the bed next to me.

He sat down next to me. After a second of silence, he began to kiss me, even opening his mouth, which he rarely did. I think he hoped to distract me. I put my hand on his chest to ask for a pause.

"There's something I want us to try."

"Ok." He was wary because I so rarely told him to stop kissing me.

"I need to explain it first. Promise me to keep an open mind."

"I promise."

I took a deep breath. I'm sure I was beet red again. "Ever since you told me how delicious my blood is for you, I've kind of wished I could give you the pleasure of tasting it without, you know, dying." I smiled to soften the blow of this admission. "For your last birthday, I had the idea, what if I gave you a pint, the same way people donate blood for hospitals." I gestured, offering the inside of my elbow. "I talked to Carlisle about it, and we almost did it, but I fainted at the sight of the needle." I smiled apologetically.

He was breathing heavily. "You didn't have to do that. I mean, I'm flattered, and it was really thoughtful, but just the idea of you being concerned with my…pleasure, when the instinct driving me to seek that pleasure puts you in danger every day—"

"Of course I want to give you pleasure," I smiled shyly, "That's a part of why I kept pushing for you to make that promise to me." I referred to our long debates about having sex while I'm still human.

"If that's the only reason, then I can assure you, it will be much better for me when I don't have to worry about breaking you in half!"

"I never said that was the only reason. I'm far too selfish for that."

"I know. I'm not trying to take it back."

"Good, because I don't want you to take this back either." I pointed to his mother's ring.

"It's yours forever."

"I know," I smiled, knowing he was trying to distract me by being romantic. "Anyway, it occurred to me that there was another way to let you taste my blood, without dying, and without needles. And I think I might like it too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I bleed every month. If you wanted, you could drink some of that blood safely, without hurting me."

He stood up, lost for words. "So you've collected some of this blood, I suppose?" he asked in an incredulous tone, looking around for some phial.

"I thought you could taste it directly."

"Directly?" His eyebrows had almost disappeared into his hairline.

"Collect it yourself. With your" I gulped, staring at his lips. "mouth."

"If I were to lose control and bite you…_there_," I'd thought he was flustered this afternoon, but that was nothing to this.

"I trust you. You were able to suck venom from my hand without draining me, and that was before the whole Italy incident that you say cured you forever of the desire to drink my blood. Now that the urge that made it dangerous is controllable, why not just savor the pleasure of it?"

He didn't respond for a long time, and I knew I'd have to take matters into my own hands before he would take any action. I pulled off my pajama pants, and my panties with them, and lay down on the bed, putting my knees up. Edward wasn't breathing.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Don't like what you see? Don't like the smell?"

He moaned, sitting down on the bed near my waist.

"I'm not breaking my promise." I assured him. "I don't mean sex, not intercourse anyway. We'll wait until our wedding night for that." He was leaning closer and closer to my hips. "Please, Edward? I want to give this to you."

"Bella," he whispered, and I felt the chill of his tongue, only the tip. I gasped at the coldness and the pleasure.

He pulled back, his hands gripping my hips tightly. He leaned his head to one side, breathing hard. "Just—keeping control," he explained.

"How is it?" I asked lightly.

"Delicious," he replied, licking me delicately again. I shivered.

Slowly, his tongue trailed up and down, covering every inch of my most intimate regions.

"That feels good," I encouraged him. He continued to explore me, his cool breath sending chills up my spine.

Suddenly, he moaned and rolled over onto his back, lifting me above him effortlessly. He poised my hips above his face. I looked down and watched a red drip fall from my body onto his waiting lower lip. He licked it slowly, closing his eyes. I squeezed my muscles, and another drip fell into his waiting mouth. I lowered myself onto his face, slowed by his hands on my hips. When his lips made contact, I gasped and touched the wall for balance. His tongue reached deep inside me, cleaning me of the blood he craved. My body rocked, and I looked down at him, pulling my hand roughly through his hair. The desire in his eyes as they stared up at me from between my legs almost sent me over the edge.

The room tipped and I was on my back again. Edward was lying on my stomach, gasping.

"There's no more blood," he said, "but I don't want to stop."

"That's fine," I said absently. I could barely remember how to speak, I was so absorbed in these new sensations.

He positioned himself between my legs again, seeking my pleasure rather than his own now. I gripped his hand tightly in my own as I rocked my hips to increase the wonderful friction. He found the perfect spot and used his lips there, kissing me intimately. I moaned his name as I came, arching my back and shuddering in pleasure.

After I caught my breath, I reached for him, and he lay down beside me. I clung to him, still glowing, burying my face in his shoulder. I was a little embarrassed: I'd never been so aggressive with him, or so uncontrolled. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw that he was grinning widely.

"What are you so happy about?"

He turned that crooked smile to me and kissed my lips softly, cradling my cheek. "Thank you."

"I should be thanking you."

He shook his head. "It was my pleasure. And more than that: it was an honor."

"It was my pleasure too," I pointed out.

He grinned again. "I know."

"You look almost…proud of yourself."

"Is that ok?" He asked sheepishly.

"Yeah. I'm proud of myself too. For having the guts to suggest it, I mean."

"I'm glad you did."

"Me too." I kissed his cheek. "What about…the taste?"

"Not as good as your other blood, but with its own…special flavor. And that's in addition to the other, more human pleasures of it."

"I thought I was the only one who would get any of that." I was surprised.

"I've told you how being with you makes me feel more human. Tonight I feel more human than I ever have."

I smiled. It was too good to be true, that I made him anywhere near as happy as he made me. "I love you," I said simply.

"I love you more," he replied.

"Ok." I said mischievously, making it into a joke for once rather than arguing as I usually did. "Speaking of being human…" I said, standing up and reaching for my discarded pajama pants.

"Of course."

When I returned from a quick trip to the bathroom, my bed was turned down and there was a rose on the pillow, one I thought I recognized from our neighbor Mrs. Ryle's garden. Edward sat in my desk chair expectantly. As soon as I shut the door, he came over and kissed me deeply, so that my legs felt unsteady.

"You know, I'll be on my period for four or five more days,"

"I realize that," he said, smiling into our kiss. "You sure you don't want to reconsider staying human?"

I punched his arm weakly. "I thought you said you'd enjoy it more when I'm less breakable."

"Just weighing the possibilities." He led me to my bed, tucked me in and lay down next to me on top of the covers. I fell asleep to the sound of him humming my lullaby and the soothing pressure of his hand stroking my arm.

Hope you didn't get too grossed out.

Please review!


	4. Bella's Naughty Idea EPOV

Be warned: if the blood stuff grossed you out in the last chapter, you might want to skip this one, because it's even worse in this one.

Bella's Naughty Idea--EPOV

That night I stood for a few minutes on the ground below Bella's window, staring absently at her neighbor's rose garden, trying to work up the courage to enter her room and face this awkward conversation. I could not comprehend why she thought this topic was important for us to discuss. I tried to put Alice and Jasper's silly implications out of my mind as I scaled the brick wall.

Bella was sitting on her bed in pajamas, reading. She smiled and put the book aside when she saw me come through the window. "Hey." She said softly.

"Hey," I replied, keeping my distance from her.

"C'mere," Bella said brightly, patting the bed next to her.

I sank down beside her. She did not immediately begin this dreaded conversation, so I took the opportunity to kiss her. I opened my mouth and traced her lips with my tongue, causing her to shiver. The kiss deepened and grew, and I was getting ready to lean her back on the bed when I felt a small pressure on my chest: she was actually pushing me away.

"There's something I want us to try." She explained.

Something she'd like more than open-mouth kissing? I was doubtful I could allow such a thing. My voice surely communicated my wariness as I consented to hear her out.

"I need to explain it first. Promise me to keep an open mind."

"I promise."

Bella's face was as red as I'd ever seen it. I could smell the blood through the pores of her face. I imagined it filling the tiny capillaries behind her fair skin—before I caught myself. I hadn't thought that way about her blood in months. What was wrong with me tonight?

Bella was telling me something. I should pay attention. "Ever since you told me how delicious my blood is for you, I've kind of wished I could give you the pleasure of tasting it without, you know, dying. For your last birthday, I had the idea, what if I gave you a pint, the same way people donate blood for hospitals. I talked to Carlisle about it, and we almost did it, but I fainted at the sight of the needle."

I was touched. Her selflessness truly knew no bounds. "You didn't have to do that," I whispered. Her look changed, and I was afraid I sounded ungrateful. I jumped to assure her that was not the case—quite the opposite, actually. "I mean, I'm flattered, and it was really thoughtful, but just the idea of you being concerned with my…pleasure, when the instinct driving me to seek that pleasure puts you in danger every day—"

"Of course I want to give you pleasure," A small, sweet smile lit up her lovely face, "That's a part of why I kept pushing for you to make that promise to me." I remembered our long debates about having sex while Bella's still human.

"If that's the only reason, then I can assure you, it will be much better for me when I don't have to worry about breaking you in half!"

"I never said that was the only reason. I'm far too selfish for that."

"I know. I'm not trying to take it back."

"Good, because I don't want you to take this back either." Bella gestured to my mother's diamond ring. It looked so right on her small hand. The mere idea of taking it back told me I'd gone too far.

"It's yours forever." I told her fervently.

"I know." Her smile was radiant. I rejoiced again that she had finally accepted this most important gift from me. She changed gears then. "Anyway, it occurred to me that there was another way to let you taste my blood, without dying, and without needles. And I think I might like it too."

I was perplexed. This was an unexpected, inexplicable development. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I bleed every month. If you wanted, you could drink some of that blood safely, without hurting me."

I stood up to give myself some distance from her, so that I could think more clearly. "So you've collected some of this blood, I suppose?" I asked incredulously, looking around for some phial.

"I thought you could taste it directly."

"Directly?" She didn't mean…

"Collect it yourself. With your mouth."

"With my—" An erotic image filled my mind: gloriously naked Bella, spread open for me, the scent of her blood filling the air. The idea overwhelmed me, and I'm afraid I sputtered quite foolishly. "My God, Bella, you—you want me to—I—It—It's out of the question!"

"Why do you get to be the one to decide what's out of the question?"

That was a reasonable objection. It _was_ unfair that I set so many of the boundaries of our relationship and expected her simply to go along with them. That didn't mean I wasn't right, though. It just meant that I couldn't make sweeping declarations like that; I couldn't dismiss her suggestion out of hand. I had no real authority to do so if our relationship was to be one between equals. A better approach would be to address the root cause of her concern, to offer appeasement and sympathy. I changed the subject. "Bella, I'm sorry. I know you must be frustrated—"

"No, I—" Did Bella really expect me to believe that, after all our negotiations on this topic? I gave her a look and she rolled her eyes at me. "Well, yes, I am, but that's not the point."

"What, then, is the point?"

"You!" _Me?_ "I want to—to make you feel good, and it seems like this is the best way to do it. I mean, when we kiss, you don't seem to get—carried away the way I do, you're always so controlled. I just want to—send you over the edge, and since we can't have sex, giving you my blood is the only way I can think of to do it."

"You still think I'm only interested in your blood?" Her implication cut me. I hated the idea that Bella still did not understand the extent of my feeling for her. My thirst for her blood had merely been the catalyst for our relationship, one of two things about her that had caught my attention. By now, entire days went by without my spending a single moment thinking about her red and white cells. And the idea that I didn't like kissing her—that was simply offensive. It was only that I had more self-control than she did. Eighty-odd years of vegetarian vampirism will do that for you.

"No, I know that you love me, and you're attracted to me. You've convinced me of that." She took my cold hand, surrounding it in the warmth of her palm. "But physically, what you want more than anything is blood, right? My blood. Your body wants my blood as intensely as I want your body. You've promised to fulfill that desire for me, and the one thing I would like to do for you in return, in appreciation, is to let you taste my blood." Her voice took on a familiar wheedling tone.

It was all true. I couldn't deny it; I could only explain that the desires of my body were irrelevant. "But more than I want your blood, I want you alive and safe. My mind won that battle long ago—"

"Exactly. That's why this_is_safe."

"You have no idea how much of a struggle it is for me—still—"

"You're underestimating yourself. The fact that I am alive at all is testament to your incredible restraint. You can do this."

I tried to calm myself with a deep breath. "If I were to lose control and bite you…_there..._" I imagined my wretched teeth desecrating her most intimate regions…the idea made me feel sick.

"I trust you. You were able to suck venom from my hand without draining me, and that was before the whole Italy incident that you say cured you forever of the desire to drink my blood. Now that the urge that made it dangerous is controllable, why not just savor the pleasure of it?"

I struggled to think of another counterargument. When I came up with nothing, Bella seemed to make a decision. To my amazement, she stood and took off her pajama pants. She lay down on the bed, pulling her knees up. Her scent assaulted my senses, and I ceased breathing. I could not tear my eyes away from her body.

"What's wrong?" Bella asked. "Don't like what you see? Don't like the smell?"

She was taunting me. I could not hold back a moan. I sank down onto the bed, bracing my arms on either side of Bella's slim waist. I knew it was rude to stare at her the way I was, but I could not help it.

She was talking, but I couldn't concentrate enough to comprehend. Her hips were like a magnet, drawing me to them with irresistible force. I tried to focus on her words instead, but they only undid me further.

"Please, Edward? I want to give this to you."

How could I say no? Slowly, I moved from her side to take position between her legs, preparing myself as best I could.

"Bella," I whispered, and touched the tip of my tongue to her soft flesh. Though the traces of her blood were as faint as could be, they threatened to overwhelm my senses. I felt the venom fill my throat, burning stronger than ever.

I had the strength to pull back, gripping her hips so tightly I was afraid I'd hurt her. I fought to concentrate on the lingering taste of her skin rather than on the hints of blood: that would keep my instincts in check. I owed her an explanation of my sudden changes in decision; I couldn't let her think this was yet another rejection. "Just—keeping control," I gasped out.

"How is it?" Bella asked, her tone light, as if she were asking me to comment on a shared appetizer.

"Delicious," I whispered. The word did not cover it.

I brought my mouth back down to her. I licked her soft folds delicately, trailing up and down, left, right and center. "That feels good," I vaguely heard Bella say. I continued to explore her body, focusing on the taste of her skin, and her arousal, so that the scent of her blood, so near, so rich, would not overpower me.

But as I probed deeper into her depths with my eager tongue, I found a place where the blood was pooled. There was so much of it: almost a tablespoon. I felt like a miner striking gold. I had to have it all.

My body acted quickly, before my mind even knew what was going on. I lifted Bella and lay down on my back, posing her so that she hovered above my face. Two drops fell from her body onto my lips. I licked them; my eyes closed involuntarily as I savored the taste. She lowered herself, and I held her hips to steady her. My lips touched her, then my tongue sought out that pool of blood again. As the taste of her blood sent my body into ecstasy, Bella's reactions only excited me more. Her body moved rhythmically, varying the angle at which my tongue penetrated her. Our eyes met: hers were full of passion and desire. She raked her fingers through my hair, pushing my mouth into her body. Finally, it seemed all the blood was gone.

I lay Bella back down on the bed and rested on her stomach, taking deep breaths to cleanse myself of the intense taste so that I could regain control. I could feel her rapid heartbeat.

"There's no more blood," I looked up, begging her with my eyes for permission to continue. "but I don't want to stop."

"That's fine." There was something odd about the way she said it; almost as if she were beyond caring what I did to her. I took her at her word, too caught up to waste time deciphering her tone.

I dove back in, and this time she let herself go completely, moving her hips rapidly to create more friction. There was one spot where she seemed most sensitive, judging by her reactions. I focused my efforts there, kissing and swirling my tongue until her pleasure seemed to reach a climax. Her hips moved more wildly and she squeezed my hand, crying my name in a voice that I knew would fuel my fantasies for months. Finally, her trembling stilled, and she pulled me up to lie down beside her. I wanted to kiss her, but she refused to look at me; she was probably embarrassed. I settled for stroking her hair and replaying that moan in my head again and again. We lay there that way for a few minutes, until a pleased voice broke my reverie.

"What are you so happy about?"

Bella was asking me a question. I supposed I must have looked quite foolish, smiling so widely. I kissed her gently, stroking her cheek. "Thank you."

"I should be thanking you."

She was entirely wrong about that. "It was my pleasure. And more than that: it was an honor."

"It was my pleasure too."

I could not hold back my grin, remembering the way her voice had changed as she moaned my name. "I know."

"You look almost…proud of yourself."

"Is that ok?" It was rather silly of me, I knew, to feel such a sense of accomplishment. I felt potent, manly, and yet I was also reminded of how I'd felt as a little boy when I'd learned to ride a bicycle.

"Yeah. I'm proud of myself too. For having the guts to suggest it, I mean."

"I'm glad you did."

"Me too." Her lips brushed my cheek. "What about…the taste?"

"Not as good as your other blood, but with its own…special flavor. And that's in addition to the other, more human pleasures of it."

"I thought I was the only one who would get any of that." Bella's tone registered surprise and pleasure.

"I've told you how being with you makes me feel more human. Tonight I feel more human than I ever have."

Her smile lit up the whole room. "I love you," she told me.

"I love you more," I replied, delighted that I'd made her happy.

"Ok." Bella joked. I chuckled, nuzzling her neck with my forehead. "Speaking of being human…" Bella stood up and reached for her discarded pajama pants.

As soon as she left the room, I began racking my brain for something special I might do for her. I remembered her neighbor's rose garden. As fast as I could, I leapt from the window and dashed to a rosebush. I selected the most perfect bud I could find, climbed back into Bella's room and placed it carefully on her pillow as I prepared the bed for her rest. Then I sat down in her desk chair, staring at the door until she walked through it.

The second she came through the door and secured it, I was kissing her, as deeply as I could allow myself.

"You know, I'll be on my period for four or five more days," she said slyly when I finally gave her a moment to breathe.

"I realize that," I responded, smiling into our kiss. "You sure you don't want to reconsider staying human?"

Her fist hit my arm. "I thought you said you'd enjoy it more when I'm less breakable."

"Just weighing the possibilities."

Hope you didn't get too grossed out.

Please review!


	5. Reciprocation

Reciprocation

Reciprocation

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! For you, I did continue this story.

'Tis better to give than to receive.

Bella's point of view

Four nights later, my blood was almost gone. It had been one of the shortest periods I'd ever had, and certainly the most enjoyable, thanks to Edward's nightly ministrations. Pleasure became our goal; after a while the blood was just an afterthought, an excuse. Upon my return from the bathroom after another round, I did not get under my covers to sleep as usual, but sat down next to him on the bed and announced that I wanted to talk seriously with him.

"Edward, I would like to…reciprocate."

He shot me a quizzical glance. "I don't have any blood, Bella."

"I know. I'm not interested in blood."

"What are you interested in?"

I felt my face get hot and knew I was blushing like mad. We lay down and I kissed him deeply; he got so caught up in it, that I was able to unbutton and unzip his jeans before his hand closed around my wrist.

"Bella!"

"Edward, please." As fast as I could, I scooted down and kissed his hip.

"No way. It's absolutely too dangerous, Bella." He sat up, pushing me away and zipping his jeans again. "You know what my body is like—unyielding, inflexible. Do you have any idea how…soft the region in the back of your throat is? Do you know how easily I could penetrate that tissue and sever your brain stem? Why do you think people shoot themselves in the mouth when they want to commit suicide?"

That had exactly the effect he intended. I hadn't considered that, and was visibly shaken. He leaned back, crossing his arms smugly.

"My hand, then." It was not a concession, but a strategic maneuver. When this experiment was successful, I meant to use it as leverage to fulfill my original plan. I hadn't given up completely.

"What?"

"If it's too dangerous to stimulate you with my mouth, I'll use my hand. You can't hurt my hand, can you?"

He paused. "I don't think so, but, that's not the only reason"

"Then what is it, Edward? Why don't you want me to please you? To love you?"

"Bella, you know this is not a rejection. I would like nothing more than to allow you to please me in whatever way would be most pleasing to you. When we're married, and you've been changed, I fully intend to remind you of this offer. But until then, it's simply too dangerous."

"You're afraid of losing control."

"And severing your brain stem."

He was utterly ridiculous! I waved my hand around, inspecting it. "No brain stem in my hand!"

He smiled. "No, but, Bella, you have no idea how close I've already come to…"

"Edward, that's exactly why we need to do this!"

"Excuse me?"

"Practice."

"Oh."

I took advantage of his silence to list my arguments. "Neither of us has ever done this before. We've learned some things about how I will react on our wedding night, but your responses are still a mystery to us both. And they're the ones you're so worried about." He was still quiet. I knew I'd have to be explicit to get him to start talking. "When you say that you're afraid of losing control, what you mean is you're afraid that when you come, you'll squeeze me so hard I'll suffocate or something, right?"

"That is one of the many disturbing visions I've had, yes."

"Well, we don't know what it'll be like for you at all, do we? I mean, maybe you…do things by yourself—"

He laughed dryly. "Not in a few decades."

I laughed too. "See, we've got to make sure you're in working order! You don't buy a house without checking the plumbing, do you?"

"Is that it? You want to make sure I'm not defective?" The idea seemed to both tickle and pain him. "Bella, you've known from the beginning how very many things I'll never be able to do with you—"

"None of which matter at all compared to an eternity with you."

His eyes softened. I knew I was close to convincing him. I moved close to him, put my arms around him, and began to drop small kisses all over his face and neck. When his eyes were closed and lips slightly parted, I whispered in his ear, "Please?" and then kissed his mouth, caressing his cheeks. He groaned, and I pushed him to lie down on the bed. Amazingly, he let me, and I settled halfway on top of him, propping myself up on one elbow. We kept kissing, soft and deep. His hands settled chastely on my hip and shoulder, while mine traveled ever-so-slowly down his chest. When I reached the waistband of his jeans, he pulled his lips away from me. He was breathing hard, not from arousal, but from tension, and his eyes were full of what looked like fear.

"Edward?"

He pulled me close, and I could feel him trembling. He spoke into my hair. "I'm terrified of hurting you," he whispered. Usually this sentiment made me roll my eyes, but his voice was tremulous, and I knew how serious he was. I could not scoff at him this time. "I just imagine you after James…your cry of pain, your broken body in the hospital…if I hurt you like that, and just because you wanted to give me _pleasure_…" The strength of the revulsion and self-loathing in his voice startled me. "This cursed body of mine was meant to destroy you, and if I stop restraining it for even a second, if I lose my concentration—"

"Hey, now, I happen to like that body," I tried to lighten his mood. "You've had your fill of blood this week, haven't you?" I teased.

"I'm not talking only about your blood, Bella. There's a man in here somewhere, too, you know. My body craves you in more ways than one. I just can't…ever seem to hold you close enough; my arms just want to crush you against me as tight as I can, and I'm afraid if we…"

Hearing him say those kinds of things turned me on more than I dared let him see. I struggled to keep my attention on his doubts and fears. "You won't hurt me. I trust you." He didn't seem convinced. "We'll be careful, and go slow. Ever so slow. Please. I want to share this with you." I meant it. My original plan had been all wrong, I now could tell. This wasn't something I could seduce him into, like I had a few nights ago. He was far less interested in his own pleasure than in mine, and I didn't have the advantage of my blood to help me out this time. It would cost me to go slowly; there was nothing I wanted more than to wrap my lips around him, burying him deep in my throat, tasting him as intimately as he had tasted me just minutes earlier. Shifting from oral to manual stimulation was a serious compromise for me, but, I now understood, not nearly as serious as the compromise I was asking him to make. I realized that tonight, if he let me, I would learn a little about what it was like for him to restrain his force while kissing and holding me.

"That's not all," he said, pulling back, and looking down, avoiding my eyes. His voice was soft; he seemed absolutely humiliated. "I've become so used to holding back, to keeping such tight control on my every reaction to you, I'm not sure whether I'll even be able to let go enough…"

"Shh, don't worry," I stroked his hair. My 107-year-old fiancé was worried about his potency. It would have made me laugh if it weren't for the misery in his eyes. The idea that he could ever disappoint me was insane. Vulnerability came off him in waves, and it created reactions in my chest I hadn't felt before. "It's ok if we don't get that far tonight. I just want to give you pleasure, to explore your body…It'll still feel good, right, even if you don't come? I just want to make you feel good."

"That's the one thing I'm not worried about," He smiled, and touched his forehead to mine. "Anything you do to me will feel amazing."

I grinned widely. The way he used the future tense, rather than the conditional—it sounded like he'd made up his mind. I kissed him tentatively, and his hands framed my face as he opened his mouth to me, sighing. The kiss went on and on and grew, while his hands roamed my back and mine his chest.

I reached the button of his jeans again, and broke the kiss to look at him for permission. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes tightly, screwed up his mouth, and nodded. The fear and reluctance in the gesture bothered me. I wanted him to want this as much as I did, to enjoy it. "Hey," I said, touching his cheek to make him look at me. "I will not_ let_ you hurt me, all right?" He snickered; we both knew I was incapable of defending myself against him. "I will not allow you to beat yourself up over something you can't help; when you do that, it hurts me more than any physical pain you could put me through. I will not let the strength of your body and the weakness of mine spoil this moment for us. I will live to marry you, make love to you, and join you in immortality." I managed to put enough force behind my words that we both seemed to believe me.

"Bella, I—"

I stopped him with a finger on his lips. "I know." I moved my hand back to his jeans, and popped the button. I glanced back up at him as I slowly slid down the zipper. I opened the jeans slowly, revealing the bulge in his green boxer shorts. With the tip of one finger, I traced it softly, looking at his face. There was a sharp intake of breath, and his shoulders tensed.

"Relax," I whispered. He nodded swiftly. I added my second finger and the tiniest amount of pressure and repeated my action. I kissed his marble cheek, every inch of it, as I slowly added force and fingers, until my entire hand was stroking him through his boxers.

"All right?" I asked.

"So far…" he murmured.

I pulled my hand away and rested it on his bare stomach. He opened his eyes and looked at me, surprised I'd stopped.

"I'm going to slip my hand under the boxers, ok?" He nodded. It seemed to reassure him, the announcement, the fact that I'd warned him, the slow pace I was setting.

I moved my hand to the side, and under the edge of the waistband, so that it was resting on his hip. I slid my hand from there to his center, paying close attention to his face so that I would know when to stop. The tip of my middle finger made contact first; I paused there before advancing so that I touched him with my first three fingers.

This slow speed sharpened my senses, allowing me to notice the smallest things about him. For example, between my first and second finger there was a ridge, which I supposed separated the tip from the shaft (I'd seen enough illustrations in anatomy books to know what to expect). My fingertips, even without moving, sent me information about the texture; it was something between satin and velvet, different from the rest of his skin. My eyes took in his clenched jaw and fists, the tightness in his chest and shoulders.

I kept pushing my fingers forward, until they curled around him, and my thumb came in contact with his tip. He gave a shuddering gasp. I smiled broadly, triumphantly. This was _Edward,_ here in my hand. My heart gave a lurch as I understood that part of what I was feeling was_ possessiveness_. I was convinced that what I held in my hand _belonged_ to me as much as my hand itself did. Just to touch Edward like this was enough, I realized. Just to be in direct contact with this secret part of him, to savor this first touch. Sure, I wanted more, but I'd be content to stop here if he wanted.

"All right?" I asked.

He opened his eyes and turned to look at me. It was one of the most intense gazes he'd ever turned on me. Slowly, he unclenched his fist and touched my chin, bringing my lips to his. The kiss was soft and slow; I let him control it because I didn't trust myself and didn't want to push him any more than I already had.

As the kiss went on, deepening gradually, I became aware that Edward was moving his hips ever so slightly; he seemed to be trying to create friction. When I realized this, I broke away so that I could look into his eyes. I was about to take another step, and I needed to make sure that he was ready.

"The boxers?"

He took a deep breath and lifted his hips to slip them down. My hand never moved from its resting place on his arousal.

I moved my fingers up half an inch, then back to where they were. Edward blinked and gulped, but held my gaze. I lengthened the stroke to a full inch, then two, then three, until my hand covered him from base to tip. My touch was still feather-light. To keep from speeding it up too quickly, I counted, keeping pace. The whole process took a while; any other woman—a woman any less infatuated with the man she was touching than I was—might have gotten bored.

"Am I doing this right?" I asked nervously.

"It feels wonderful, Bella." His voice sounded odd, strained, as if he had to really focus to get the words out. "Maybe…squeeze harder? And concentrate on the head."

Immediately, I shifted my grip up and tightened my fist around his shaft. He exhaled sharply, and there was a bit of a moan behind it as well. The feeling in my chest when I heard that little moan was indescribable. I knew that I'd be willing to do absolutely anything to hear my Edward make that sound—or hopefully a louder, more intense version of it—again. However, I'd made a promise and I meant to stick to it.

"Too much?" I silently begged him to say no.

"Not quite," he replied. "Just…stay at this level for a while."

I gladly complied, setting a pace that seemed exactly at the edge of his tolerance. I couldn't restrain myself from raining kisses on his cheeks, neck and shoulders. There was nothing I wanted more than to show him how much this meant to me; my kisses could not begin to communicate it, but they were just about all I had. What was it he'd said the other night? "It was my pleasure. And more than that: it was an honor." Now I knew exactly what he'd meant. I loved the idea that I had made him feel this way too.

I continued to stroke him; my caresses were only punctuated by kisses from me and occasional moans and trembles from him. After a while I lost track of time. I didn't ever want to stop, but my arm did begin to get tired. The discomfort barely registered in comparison to how fascinated I was with what I was doing.

As I dragged my lips along his jaw and cheek, he turned his lips to mine suddenly. I knew some peak had been reached when he started kissing me with more force than he ever had. His tongue plunged deep into my mouth as he moaned into me, his entire body trembling beside me.

"Harder. Faster." he said through clenched teeth. "And get out of the way."

Immediately I sat up from my place lying beside him. I straddled his legs, pumping him with all my might, grateful that the change in position allowed me to use different muscles in my arm, so that the soreness did not worsen. His hips moved in rhythm with my hand, while his upper body tensed. He seemed to be bracing himself.

"I love you, Edward," I told him, hoping my words would help him reach his climax. "I want to be with you forever, to be your wife."

"Oh, Bella!" he seemed to be on his very edge.

"Yes!" I encouraged him, moving my thumb in a way that he had seemed to appreciate earlier.

And then he came apart in my hand.

It happened very quickly. He arched so forcefully that I think he launched me into the air for a second. He cried out in pleasure; there was the sound of bending metal and ripping cloth before he stuffed his fist in his mouth to stifle his moans. His head jerked from side to side, while his hips thrust wildly into my hand's caresses. My eyes took in his movements greedily, thrilled that I had caused him such pleasure. I continued to pump him until he begged for mercy, saying the feeling had become too intense to be sustained. Finally he sighed and opened his arms to me.

He cleaned himself off hastily with a towel I'd brought from the bathroom for that purpose. It did not truly finish the job, but neither of us wanted him to leave to take a shower. He pulled me to him, laying me on my back and resting his head on my chest. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he chanted in a worshipful tone. I stroked his hair, grinning like an idiot. We lay there together for a few minutes, reliving our experience.

"It felt good, then?" I asked, one side of my mouth pulling up in a smile.

"Incredible, Bella."

"Thank you," I whispered, kissing his forehead.

"Bella, you are ridiculous!" he exclaimed, looking up. "If I didn't want to be thanked last night, I certainly don't want to be thanked tonight. I owe you my deepest gratitude and undying affection for the way you bravely risked yourself to bring me the greatest pleasure I've ever known."

Wow. His eloquent words caused uncontrollable reactions both in my heart and below my belt. Any response I might be able to think up was bound to be inadequate. "Well, I meant, thanks for the compliment. On my…technique, or whatever. And I was the one who talked you into it, so thank you for obliging me."

"It _was_ your idea, wasn't it? Remind me never to tell you no ever again."

"I do have good ideas, don't I?" I grinned.

"The best," he kissed my cheek. "I'm sorry it took so long," he added sheepishly.

I rolled my eyes. "So what? The payoff was worth it, don't you think?"

"For me, certainly, but—"

"But nothing. If it was worth it for you, it was worth it for me. Not to mention that I liked doing it for its own sake. Your body is…beautiful. No more of that kind of talk from you." I was blushing like mad, of course. To change the subject, I looked around the room, taking in the changes in our surroundings. "You owe me a lamp," I joked, pointing to the metal reading lamp he'd bent beyond recognition.

He looked up, following my finger to survey the damage he'd done. "I certainly do." He looked around the room for other damage, then surveyed himself. "This shirt is toast too." He'd ripped it in half as he searched for an outlet for his strength.

"I think it's been improved." I teased, trailing my fingers along his chest.

He covered my hand with his, over where his heart would be. We both looked at our hands, aware of the ring on my finger. I thought of the ring that would soon join it, the one I'd slip on Edward's finger…this wedding idea was starting to grow on me. Our eyes met and then we were kissing, softly, slowly.

We probably could have continued kissing like that all night, but soon I yawned right into Edward's mouth. It had been quite a night. He chuckled, and tucked me in, humming my lullaby until I was sound asleep.

Author's note: Please review! I'm thinking of doing Edward's point of view of this scene—interested?


	6. Reciprocation EPOV

A/N:

Thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it!

I think this is my favorite chapter. Hope you like it too!

Reciprocation: Edward's point of view

I'd just finished another delicious snack, licking Bella's flavorful blood from between her quivering folds. Actually, the blood was just a pretext; what really interested me was filling her lovely body with pleasure. I earnestly hoped we could continue this new activity even after this week's blood was gone. Tonight there had been noticeably less of it than before; it was the fourth night, and her body had discarded almost all of the blood it had gathered, most of it directly into my eager mouth.

Bella was in the bathroom, having her human moment. I tapped a few bars of a new Bella-inspired composition on my knee, impatient for her return.

My phone beeped in my pocket. I pulled it out. There was a text message from Alice:

"Go with the second suggestion. She'll be fine. Have fun."

Huh?

Before I had time to react to the cryptic text, Bella came back in the room, closing the door softly behind her with a shy smile at me. I'd pulled the covers down for her, but she did not get under them to sleep as usual. Instead, she sat down next to me and took my hand.

"Can we talk?" she asked in a serious tone.

"Of course. What's on your mind?" She didn't want to put off the wedding, did she? Maybe fulfilling her physical desires in this way made her less eager to marry me.

"Edward, I would like to…reciprocate."

What could she possibly mean? "I don't have any blood, Bella."

"I know. I'm not interested in blood."

Of course she wasn't. "What are you interested in?" I asked, perplexed.

That lovely blush stole over her cheeks. She lay down, pulling me down with her. It seemed she was too shy to say what she wanted, so she would show me. I put my guard up; she'd done this before. Her lips pressed against mine, and I let her use more tongue than usual as I filled my mind with memories of the sounds she'd made just minutes earlier, as my mouth and fingers drove her to her climax. The combination of my fantasies and the sensations she was creating were more than sufficient to distract me. Before I knew it, I felt Bella's hand on my zipper, brushing against a very sensitive area.

I grabbed her wrist. "Bella!"

"Edward, please." Before I could think to stop her, her head was down by my waistband. Her soft, warm lips pressed to a particularly sensitive spot on my hip. It made me want to groan, but I restrained myself, concentrating on the argument we were about to have. I cursed my naiveté for my failure to understand immediately what she meant when she said "reciprocate."

"No way. It's absolutely too dangerous, Bella." I sat up, moving Bella to a safe distance from me and zipping my jeans again. "You know what my body is like—unyielding, inflexible. Do you have any idea how…soft the region in the back of your throat is?" I gulped, imagining how erotic that idea would be if my body were similarly pliable. I shook my head, forcing myself to think of the reality. "Do you know how easily I could penetrate that tissue and sever your brain stem? Why do you think people shoot themselves in the mouth when they want to commit suicide?" Gruesome pictures of these kinds of injuries filled my mind; they didn't always succeed in ending the life of the unfortunate victim. More often they were paralyzed or braindead.

Her eyes widened in shock. It seemed like my words hit home. Good. Finally she'd see sense.

"My hand, then." She had the same resolute tone she'd used when we'd argued about sex.

"What?" It was my turn to be shocked, it seemed.

"If it's too dangerous to stimulate you with my mouth, I'll use my hand. You can't hurt my hand, can you?"

I paused, trying to envision the mechanics of it. "I don't think so, but, that's not the only reason" Was this what Alice meant by the "second suggestion?" There was a spark of hope, and even eagerness, in one small, selfish part of me. I fought it, determined to do the right thing and keep her safe.

"Then what is it, Edward? Why don't you want me to please you? To love you?" Her voice took on a familiar wheedling tone. I would not let her manipulate me.

"Bella, you know this is not a rejection. I would like nothing more than to allow you to please me in whatever way would be most pleasing to you. When we're married, and you've been changed, I fully intend to remind you of this offer. But until then, it's simply too dangerous."

"You're afraid of losing control."

"And severing your brain stem." I reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. It seemed my caution and concern for her life annoyed her. She waved her hand around. "No brain stem in my hand!"

I smiled. She was adorable when she was irritated with me. "No, but, Bella, you have no idea how close I've already come to…"

"Edward, that's exactly why we need to do this!"

"Excuse me?"

"Practice."

"Oh." I was silent. There was a good argument for the prudence of practice, said that selfish, hopeful part of myself. I pushed the thought away forcefully.

Bella took the opportunity to make her case. "Neither of us has ever done this before. We've learned some things about how I will react on our wedding night, but your responses are still a mystery to us both. And they're the ones you're so worried about." Yes, they were. Images of her body broken and lifeless on our wedding bed filled my mind. "When you say that you're afraid of losing control, what you mean is you're afraid that when you come, you'll squeeze me so hard I'll suffocate or something, right?"

"That is one of the many disturbing visions I've had, yes." I admitted, my voice taut.

"Well, we don't know what it'll be like for you at all, do we? I mean, maybe you…do things by yourself—"

I chuckled. "Not in a few decades."

Bella laughed with me. "See, we've got to make sure you're in working order! You don't buy a house without checking the plumbing, do you?"

Her metaphor was amusing, but it had implications that reminded me painfully of all I was cheating her out of. My "plumbing" was far from normal. "Is that it? You want to make sure I'm not defective? Bella, you've known from the beginning how very many things I'll never be able to do with you—"

"None of which matter at all compared to an eternity with you."

_An eternity with her._ The thought still caused intense reactions in the region of my chest that formerly housed my heart. However, as pleasurable as it was, the idea never came without triggering intense regret and guilt. Bella seemed to take my conflicted silence as a kind of consent. She moved close, draped her arms around my shoulders, and began to drop small kisses all over my face and neck. I let her, concentrating on the sensations she was creating, allowing the distraction. I heard her soft, imploring voice in my ear: "Please?" and then my mouth was covered with hers, my cheeks framed by her soft hands.

She knew I could never refuse her when she said that. Her hands pressed my chest as they had earlier, signaling me to lie down. I obliged, letting her kiss me, while my mind filled with bitter ruminations about her damnation, the screams of pain that would accompany her change, and of course, that was assuming she'd survive our honeymoon. I could not imagine making love to her without snapping her spine or causing a massive hemorrhage. Tension built up inside me as the contrast between my anxieties and her soft, imploring lips became unbearable. One corner of my mind was keeping track of her hands, which were inching down my chest. When they reached their goal, the button of my jeans, I ended the kiss.

"Edward?" Her eyes were wide with concern.

I couldn't explain my fear with those beautiful eyes staring at me like that. I pulled her face into my shoulder, stroking her silky hair. "I'm terrified of hurting you," I whispered, trying to put force behind the words so that she'd finally take me seriously. "I just imagine you after James…your cry of pain, your broken body in the hospital…if I hurt you like that, and just because you wanted to give me _pleasure_…" She needed to understand how horribly selfish it would be for me to let her do this. If my desire to love her led to her getting hurt, even a little, I would never forgive myself. It would be no different from if I'd drank her blood in biology class. "This cursed body of mine was meant to destroy you, and if I stop restraining it for even a second, if I lose my concentration—"

"Hey, now, I happen to like that body," Bella teased, trying in vain to distract me. She seemed disturbed by my melancholy, but was pretending cheerfulness. "You've had your fill of blood this week, haven't you?"

She hadn't the slightest clue what I was talking about. "I'm not talking only about your blood, Bella. There's a man in here somewhere, too, you know. My body craves you in more ways than one." I struggled to describe the physical reactions she inspired in me. "I just can't…ever seem to hold you close enough; my arms just want to crush you against me as tight as I can, and I'm afraid if we…"

Her eyes darkened a little, and if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought the idea of being asphyxiated in my arms turned her on. Her voice was serious, though. She was trying to understand. "You won't hurt me. I trust you." I was grateful that she was attempting to comprehend my feelings, but these were things I'd heard before. She trusted me far more than I trusted myself. "We'll be careful, and go slow. Ever so slow. Please. I want to share this with you." She really seemed to mean it. I actually believed that she would be careful, although probably not quite as careful as she should.

My mind felt exhausted from arguing with her, and she was showing no signs of giving up anytime soon. I was tired of resisting. Maybe the truth was that I was letting her win because I wanted this too. My selfishness truly knew no bounds. There was one more objection I had left, one I didn't ever want to have to tell her, but it wasn't really fair to her to hold it back, especially when she was expressing concern about my "plumbing..."

"That's not all," There was another reason I wanted to put this off. I was uncertain about my ability to perform. I looked down. It was so humiliating to have to admit this to my future wife… "I've become so used to holding back, to keeping such tight control on my every reaction to you, I'm not sure whether I'll even be able to let go enough…"

"Shh, don't worry," I felt her hand on my hair, soothing me. "It's ok if we don't get that far tonight. I just want to give you pleasure, to explore your body…It'll still feel good, right, even if you don't come? I just want to make you feel good." Her voice sounded utterly sincere. She wasn't concerned with my sexual release, but with intimacy. Refusing to allow her to touch me this way would be a denial of the closeness of our relationship. No wonder she always felt hurt and rejected when I said no to her advances.

I wouldn't make her feel that way tonight; I wouldn't tell her no.

"That's the one thing I'm not worried about," I bumped her forehead gently with my own, grinning crookedly. "Anything you do to me will feel amazing."

Bella smiled radiantly, and began to kiss me. How could I have ever thought I could deny her this? I cupped her cheeks with my cold hands and sighed into her kiss. Her lips pressed heat into mine, while my hands explored the curves of her back.

Suddenly, Bella pulled away from me, staring seriously into my eyes. I realized that her hand was once again resting on the button of my jeans. I steeled myself and nodded stiffly to her, unable to resist any longer.

"Hey," Bella exclaimed, touching my cheek to get my full attention. "I will not_ let_ you hurt me, all right?" I couldn't help snickering. How did she think she would stop me? "I will not allow you to beat yourself up over something you can't help; when you do that, it hurts me more than any physical pain you could put me through." Remorse shot through me at that. It was wrong of me to spend so much energy keeping her from physical pain that I inflicted emotional pain on her instead. She went on, her voice growing in strength. "I will not let the strength of your body and the weakness of mine spoil this moment for us. I will live to marry you, make love to you, and join you immortality." Her determination touched me. Bella was a force of nature; neither my diet of blood nor my superhuman strength could scare her away. Nothing could stop her from loving me.

I had to tell her how much I adored her, how amazing she was. "Bella, I—"

Her finger touched my lips, halting my words. "I know." She popped open the button of my jeans. She held my gaze as she slid down the zipper, revealing my boxers.

And then she touched me. With just one finger, she traced my length. I gasped, and the muscles in my upper body tensed involuntarily. Her eyes held mine steady. There was something very _honest_ about them in that moment.

"Relax," she whispered. She had opened her heart to me from day one, entrusting me with her physical safety, her emotional well-being, and her future. I hadn't fully reciprocated yet. She was so much stronger than me, so much braver. This week the scales of our intimacy had been tipped decisively in one direction; she merely wanted to restore the balance. Though she'd broken down so many of my barriers, there were still some left, and that had to change tonight. I wanted to trust her the way she trusted me. I nodded swiftly. I _would_ relax. I _would_ give her this. Gradually, she increased the contact, touching me more forcefully, and with more of her hand.

"All right?" Bella asked me breathlessly.

"So far…" I muttered. I was just waiting for it to become too much for me to handle…

Just then she stopped. That was certainly not what I'd meant. My eyes snapped open.

"I'm going to slip my hand under the boxers, ok?"

I nodded. She'd meant it when she said she'd go slow. This was very different from any of the other times she'd let her hormones get the better of her. It was reassuring. I really _could_ let go, confident that she would keep things under control for the both of us; I could allow myself to get lost in her in a way I never had before.

She pushed the pants farther to the sides, and I felt her hand on my stomach. She slid her hand underneath the waistband. I tensed my entire body in preparation for the connection with her skin. Her fingers inched across my hip until they came in contact with my manhood.

At first only her fingertips touched me, but slowly her hand advanced until my shaft was surrounded by her soft palm. With her thumb, she could probably feel the slight wetness seeping from the tip. Her breathing had sped up, and I was afraid to look at her. If her eyes held the emotions I thought they would, it would be impossible to stop my body from simply ravishing her.

I was completely exposed to her, more vulnerable than I'd ever been. There was nothing between us. She accepted me as I was, wholeheartedly, without reservations. She always had. In neither life had I ever felt so _cherished_. If I could have, I might have cried.

"All right?" Bella breathed.

I had to kiss her. Bracing myself for an onslaught of feeling, I opened my eyes and turned my head to her. In her face I saw wonder more than anything. Concentrating on my movements, I unclenched my fist and reached over to touch her chin, leading her mouth to mine. The kiss was soft and slow; her lips were pliant as she allowed me to set the tone.

We kept kissing, deliberately, sensually, and the taste of her set my senses ablaze. As I became even more intensely aroused by the sensation of her soft lips pressing against mine, my hips began to move of their own accord, pushing against her hand, creating a rhythm.

Suddenly, Bella pulled away, looking at me questioningly. "The boxers?" she asked.

I took a deep breath. No turning back now. I lifted my hips and slipped my thumbs under the elastic to push them down my legs, along with my jeans. While I moved, Bella's hand stayed where it was, as if she could not bear to come out of contact with my body. We settled back on the bed, prepared now.

She moved her hand, creating delicious friction between our bodies. Her eyes were still trained on mine, searching for signs of doubt or fear. I met her gaze steadily, hoping to show her I was sure about this, sure about her. In small increments, she lengthened her strokes, until I felt her fingers move up and down my entire length. She set a pace that was almost excruciatingly slow, but I knew that it was exactly what I needed if I were to avoid doing irreparable damage. Her feather-light caress was both delicious and maddeningly tantalizing.

"Am I doing this right?" she asked me, after a while, a tremor in her voice.

"It feels wonderful, Bella." I had to concentrate on the movements of my mouth in order to form the words correctly. My body was screaming for satisfaction, and it was becoming clear that her light touches, as amazing as they felt, were not quite sufficient to fulfill my body's desires. I gave in to the selfish impulse and asked for gratification, knowing she would oblige. "Maybe…squeeze harder? And concentrate on the head."

Immediately, her grip changed in the most fantastic way. I could not hold back a low moan.

"Too much?" She didn't want to stop, I could tell. But she was being cautious, like she'd promised.

I paused, assessing the situation. I_ thought_ I could handle it. I would _make sure_ I could handle it. "Not quite. Just…stay at this level for a while." I requested.

Bella showered my face and neck with kisses. The soft, warm pressure of her lips felt heavenly against my cool skin. Meanwhile, she stroked my cock with a hand that became increasingly expert. She was a quick study. I indulged in fantasizing about pleasuring her and tasting her monthly blood with all the detail and vividness of my vampire memory, the twin sources of my attraction to her heightening my arousal.

Suddenly, I reached a new plateau of pleasure; I felt on the very edge. Moaning and trembling, I kissed her hard, unable to restrain myself from forcing my tongue into her warm mouth. I felt entirely out of control and it scared me. If this was going to happen, I had to get her to a safe distance so that I couldn't hurt her.

"Harder. Faster." I demanded, my jaw tight. "And get out of the way."

Bella sat up and straddled my legs, continuing to pump me as rapidly and forcefully as she could. I thrust again and again into her hand, daring to allow myself to imagine it was a different part of her body.

"I love you, Edward. I want to be with you forever, to be your wife."

I cried her name, overwhelmed by the words she'd just spoken. She'd never made a declaration like that; I'd been convinced she was doing it reluctantly, to please me. Hearing her say she actually wanted to marry me was…words could not describe it. It was more than everything I'd ever wanted; it overcame me.

"Yes!" She replied, her voice eager; she wanted this to happen even more than I did. She did something amazing with her hand, and it was over.

A wave of electricity shot through my body, traveling up my spine and down my legs. It moved in rhythm with Bella's strokes, causing my back to arch and my head to move erratically. My arms thrashed wildly, searching for some outlet for my strength. I bit down on my knuckle to muffle the sound of my groans. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pleasure reached a point where it became unbearable, and I begged her for mercy.

"Stop, stop. Too much." I lay back, catching my breath, wrapping my arm around Bella's shoulders.

I grabbed a towel I saw on her desk chair, wiping myself off quickly so as not to expose her to my mess. I needed a shower, but nothing could have induced me to leave her at this moment. I returned quickly to the bed and laid Bella on her back, allowing myself the privilege of resting my head on her beautiful breasts.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," I chanted reverently.

"It felt good, then?" my angel asked sweetly.

"Incredible, Bella." The word did not cover it, but it was the strongest superlative I could think of when my mind was still reeling with pleasure.

"Thank you," she whispered, bringing her lips to touch my forehead.

"Bella, you are ridiculous!" I exclaimed, looking up. "If I didn't want to be thanked last night, I certainly don't want to be thanked tonight. I owe you my deepest gratitude and undying affection for the way you bravely risked yourself to bring me the greatest pleasure I've ever known."

Her eyes widened and her breathing quickened: I think she'd liked hearing that. She tried to be nonchalant about it, though. "Well, I meant, thanks for the compliment. On my…technique, or whatever. And I was the one who talked you into it, so thank you for obliging me." She failed.

"It _was_ your idea, wasn't it? Remind me never to tell you no ever again." As if I ever could, after this.

"I do have good ideas, don't I?" She grinned.

"The best," I kissed her blushing cheek. "I'm sorry it took so long," I added, embarrassed.

Bella actually rolled her eyes. "So what? The payoff was worth it, don't you think?"

"For me, certainly, but—"

"But nothing. If it was worth it for you, it was worth it for me. Not to mention that I liked doing it for its own sake. Your body is…" A faraway look came into her eyes, and I almost had to believe she really felt what she was saying. "…beautiful. No more of that kind of talk from you. You owe me a lamp," she said, pointing to the metal reading lamp I'd bent beyond recognition.

"I certainly do." I glanced quickly around, looking for more changes in our surroundings, finally looking down at myself. "This shirt is toast too." I must have torn it in half as the pleasure ripped through my body.

"I think it's been improved." Bella joked, touching my chest shyly with her fingertips.

I covered Bella's hand possessively with my own, locking it over where my heart would be. I could feel the ring on her finger underneath my palm, the sign of our commitment. This perfect woman had promised to be mine. Our eyes met and then we were kissing, her lips infusing my entire body with warmth.

We probably could have continued kissing like that all night, but soon Bella yawned right into my mouth. I laughed at her adorable humanity. My hands gathered the blankets around her, tucking her in to my embrace and protecting her from it at the same time. I hummed her lullaby until she was dreaming, secure in my granite arms.

A/N:

I'm about 90% sure this is the end of this fic. Thanks for all your support!


	7. Second Base

Second Base

This is slightly AU. For the purposes of this chapter, Bella and Edward got engaged before graduation, and Emmett continued going to Forks High during Bella and Edward's senior year.

This is just because I wanted to include Emmett in the story, and I wanted to get the story out of Bella's bedroom, vary the location a little.

It was a Monday, and I waited in the parking lot to for Bella to pull up. I hadn't been in her room this morning, because I'd only returned from a "hiking" trip with Emmett and Jasper two hours ago. We'd made a long weekend of it, taking the opportunity to go far into Canada to sample the superior wildlife there.

It had been almost four days since I'd been with Bella, and for this reason I was incredibly anxious.

She stepped out of her truck, slammed the rusty door, and turned around.

If I needed to breathe, I would have passed out. As it was, I froze in a way that is impossible for humans. I was unwilling to expend any of my superhuman stores of energy on anything except drinking in the sight of Bella with my eyes.

She was wearing a blouse I'd never seen before.

It wasn't just that her top was low-cut. Yes, it did expose more of Bella's chest than anything I'd ever seen her wear, except perhaps her prom dress, but it was still more modest than the outfits worn regularly by many of the other girls at school.

It wasn't just that it was tight. It did hug her curves in an entrancing way, but there was some room in it, some space between her body and the cloth that made the garment move with her alluringly.

It wasn't just that it was in my favorite color, that deep blue that looked so amazing against her pale skin. The color helped, but it was not the reason.

It wasn't just that it had a silky texture that made my fingers itch to touch it. That was nice, but could not distract from the smoothness of Bella underneath.

It was all of that together, plus the fact that it had buttons in front. Those little blue circles invited me to imagine undoing them, one by one, exposing Bella's skin, her roundness, the soft vulnerability of the flesh that protected her heart and other vital organs.

Alice pinched me, and I started, coming back to myself, just as Bella came close. My sister was right to bring me back to my senses; it was always a danger sign when I started thinking in too much detail about the insides of Bella's body. I pulled my sunglasses out of my pocket, so my fiance wouldn't notice if I couldn't help staring at her chest.

"Hey!" she said brightly. I thanked God for her smile; it was the only thing that could possibly have drawn my attention above her shoulders. As we walked toward the school building, she began prattling about last night's homework, Alice's plans for a movie marathon this coming weekend, Angela's scholarship offer. I didn't say a word in response and she didn't notice my silence, thankfully.

We arrived at our classroom and settled down in our usual desks, side by side in the exact middle of the classroom. Just as Mr. McDonough was about to begin our discussion of Othello, I said to her, "Nice shirt." In order to keep my voice restrained, I had to keep my gaze toward the front of the classroom.

"Thanks!" she said brightly, looking down at it. I took the opportunity to ogle her. She couldn't catch me looking at her chest if she was looking at it herself. "Alice got it for me."

Figured.

As we went through the day, and I kept catching glimpses of her from different angles, as she leaned over her desk or stretched her arms. The worst was when she leaned against me in the halls. Generally I gave her my arm and she rested her thin fingers on the crook of my elbow; it was old-fashioned, but it made it easier for me to be unobtrusive if she tripped and I had to catch her. I also liked to think that it set us apart from the less serious high-school couples who merely held hands.

However, today I was hyper-aware of her body, and when she linked arms with me, my elbow and forearm brushed against the side of her beautiful breast. It almost made me moan aloud.

By the time we finished walking to class, I'd come to a conclusion: I had to touch her.

I had felt lust for her before, of course, and I'd been magnetically attracted to this part of her body in particular. I'd spent hours daydreaming about her breasts, and the skin of her abdomen, but back then it was easier to restrain myself from doing anything about my desires. Our recent explorations had changed my reactions to her irrevocably. I had intimate details of her anatomy locked in my flawless memory, and I was fully aware that she'd learned much about my body as well. Our new familiarity made the existence of this blind spot absolutely intolerable. Partial knowledge was more difficult to bear than no knowledge at all. A whole new realm of possibilities was open to me, and the thought of enduring a few more hours of school without seizing them was unbearable.

But I was getting far ahead of myself. I couldn't assume that Bella's body was simply mine for the taking. That was wrong, and I cursed myself for my arrogant presumption. I knew I would respect her wishes, no matter what, but at that moment, I thought I would die if I could not feel her in my hand, and soon. Of course, I also knew that I would rather die than force her.

Unable to bring myself to pay a bit of attention to the lesson, I wondered obsessively about whether or not she'd let me touch her. It certainly_ seemed_ less intimate than the steps we'd already taken. I wasn't as worried about my own control for this activity; there was no way it would be as serious a trial for my thirst and my restraint as our recent adventures in oral and manual sex. However, it would never have occurred to me to initiate this step without having already experienced those first. I would have assumed it was improper, assumed I could not handle it, but now, thanks to Bella's bold propositions, I knew that I could. It was wonderful to feel confident about such a thing. It felt normal. Human, even.

Maybe there was a reason why she'd chosen to do the other things first? Does she have some ridiculous insecurity about the way her body looks above the waist?

Trying desperately to convince myself that my desires would be fulfilled, my frantic thoughts latched onto the idea that what I wanted was not as serious as what Bella had already given me. I tried to remember all of the things I'd overheard in the thoughts of the teenagers around me. I told myself that if I could understand the way they thought about sex and the steps leading up to it, I might know what Bella would say to this request. They were of the same generation, at least. Bella had told me on multiple occasions that my views on relationships, marriage, and especially sex, were ridiculously old-fashioned. Sometimes, when I tried to understand her, it was like speaking a foreign language.

My memories of randomly overheard thoughts seemed to tell me that when boys schemed to "get some" from their dates, they generally imagined beginning with the upper half of the body and moving down. Especially for the least scrupulous of these boys, the pride of the Monday morning bragging session figured prominently in their daydreams, even those concerning the actual act. They had horrible names for girls who said "yes" to some acts and "no" to others; they saw their dates' minds as obstacles to their own satisfaction, or as games to be played, while their bodies were playgrounds, toys. For these boys, sex was more a personal accomplishment, like running a five-minute mile, than an expression of any kind of feeling for another person. They had a very silly way of talking about it, exactly as if it were an athletic feat…

I hated thinking about Bella in the context of these boys' fantasies and conquests. I felt proud and relieved that I had saved her from the selfish attentions of boys like these, but really, did that sentiment make me any better than they were?

I racked my mind to remember how that male code worked, but was having trouble for some reason. My memory was perfect: if I'd ever known it, it should be there for me to recall. Maybe my attempts to block these kinds of thoughts had been fairly successful, or I had willfully refused to try to decipher it, and thus had never understood it at all. I was frustrated; usually my ability gave me perfect comprehension of cultural conventions like this one. I wanted to know whether I was right in the guesses I'd made about the present generation, to which my love belonged. It might help me to know what her attitude would be toward my request.

The bell rang. Bella smiled at me and squeezed my hand before turning and strolling down the hall with Angela.

I went in the opposite direction to get to history, my one class apart from Bella. No schedule could be optimal.

I slid into my normal seat in front of Emmett, and immediately realized Emmett would probably have a better handle on the question that had been bugging me.

I ripped out a piece of notebook paper and wrote on it, "What are the bases?"

_What? _He thought as soon as he read the note.

Rather than waiting for him to fish in his bag for a pencil to write down his response, I fired another note his way: "You know, the bases. In locker room talk."

Emmett seemed to comprehend, and his thoughts took on a tone similar to a professor lecturing. _Well, when I was human, we said that first base was kissing, and second base was anything beyond kissing that happens above the waist, and third base was anything that happens below the waist. Nowadays, they say first base is kissing, second base is anything beyond that involves the hands, and third base is anything that involves the mouth on any part of the body below the neck. You know what a home run is. Do I want to know why you're asking? Did you overhear something odd, or does it have to do with Bella?_

It was as I'd suspected. What I wanted today was, in fact, generally considered less serious than what Bella and I had already done. That was a slight relief; it made my success feel more likely.

Besides relief, my other main reaction to Emmett's explanation was, _how crude._ This locker room language was crude in two senses. First, it was vulgar. The second, related, kind of crudity came from its lack of precision. There were two variables involved in the "foreplay" that the "bases" stand for—where one is touching another, and what part of the body is doing the touching—and the various combinations create varying levels of intimacy. This metaphor completely failed to account for these variations. In addition, it was embedded with a false assumption that everyone would "round the bases" in one particular order. The inaccuracy of the system was directly related to its offensiveness. Since the boys who made up the system were concerned with claiming bragging rights, not creating a true description of intimacy, they were bound to fail. It was like trying to write the musical notations for a sonata with a hammer and chisel. Or trying to write a sonnet with a vocabulary of exactly one hundred words.

Thinking of remedying this imprecise metaphor, I absently wrote down, "There should be at least four."

Emmett looked over my shoulder at what I was writing before I could decide whether or not to actually pass the note. _What? _he thought, confused.

I rolled my eyes and finished the sentence with an annoyed scrawl, "Bases." I underlined the entire sentence for emphasis: "There should be at least four bases."

Emmett leaned back and thought my objection over. He was inclined to agree. He thought the bases weren't specific enough. Under neither definition was it clear exactly which parts of the body were involved for both parties; whether clothing was removed, and how much, and whether a completion was achieved. The vagueness of the base system made him think about how _I_ had been vague about my physical relationship with Bella.

I wrote on another scrap of paper, "Don't go there."

Emmett laughed to himself._ It's only a matter of time, kid. _He knew he'd learn all about my sex life with Bella soon enough. Once we all lived under the same roof, there'd be no keeping secrets. Even without precognition, empathy, or telepathy, Emmett's superhuman hearing would be enough to give him the private information to satiate his curiosity and fuel his teasing. I sighed, knowing it was inevitable.

Emmett believed he'd won that point, and his thoughts had already moved on; he was trying to think of ways to amend or append the "base" system. _Maybe football?_ he wondered. _There's a more flexible system of gaining territory toward a goal; it could be a series of slow rushes of three yards, three yards, four yards, first down, or it could be one great pass that gains you half the field. The woman's body as yardage gained…_I tuned out when he started picturing Rosalie in a sexy referee uniform, then a cheerleader skirt, then a jersey and nothing else.

"Too violent," I wrote, "Besides, a football metaphor implies an offense and a defense. Those roles aren't set in stone. All of these sports metaphors are so adversarial, implying a conquest, not a gift, not a…"

The bell rang. Emmett stood up, and grabbed the paper out of my hand before I could crumble it. He read it quickly, and laughed.

"No one thinks the way you do," he said. _Anyone who'd really be using those metaphors to talk about a girl wouldn't care about what it "implies." _He looked back down at the paper he'd snatched from me. _And this stuff about "roles"—do you mean that Bella's been playing OFFENSE?_

I rolled my eyes at Emmett and walked away. His thoughts screamed after me, and I knew that he'd taken my response, or lack thereof, as a "yes."

In the cafeteria, Bella was sitting alone with Angela in a corner table. She waved at me, but nodded toward her friend to let me know she didn't want me to join them. I was glad that Bella was still close with Angela, so I couldn't let the few minutes apart bother me too much. Besides, if we were on opposite sides of the cafeteria, it would help me keep from staring at her chest. I sat next to Alice at our usual table.

"I'll keep everyone away this afternoon," my sister said to me.

"What?"

"Take Bella to our house. It's yours for the day."

I felt like an idiot. Why did I bother asking Emmett about juvenile bragging codes when I had a sister who could see the future? And she'd seen Bella and I at our house this afternoon? Why didn't I think to ask Alice earlier?

"I wouldn't have told you. You know how good I am at blocking you." Alice put her lips to the straw in her bottle of iced tea, pretending to drink.

"Alice, please!" I begged. She knew how desperate I was.

"All I'll say is this: Has Bella ever said no to you?" Her thoughts turned instantly to a memory of an opera we'd seen once in Seattle.

That definitely seemed encouraging. I allowed myself to feel quite hopeful. I checked my watch. If Bella was as open to physical experimentation as she usually was, it would only be three hours until I would be caressing her beautiful breasts. Never before had immortality made time move so slowly.

I met up with Bella in our Calculus class, sitting next to the empty desk that was reserved for me.

"Come to my house after school." I said urgently, concentrating on keeping my eyes locked with hers. I knew it was not polite to simply command her, but I really could not take no for an answer. We _are_ engaged, I told myself. Not that it gives me the right to _expect _anything from her, I amended.

"Um, ok. Any reason?"

"Because I cannot wait until Charlie goes to sleep." I whispered.

"Oh!" She gasped, reddening. She also smiled; I think it pleased her. Mr. Wysong began going through the previous night's homework. Bella appeared to pay attention, but her blush remained on her cheeks and—my God—the top of her chest for over half the class period.

The instant the final bell rang, I was hustling Bella out of our class and toward my Volvo.

"What about my truck?" she asked.

We were leaving it because it would not go fast enough. "We'll get it later." I told her.

"What about your siblings?"

"They can take care of themselves."

Within seconds of our arrival at the house, I'd whisked Bella up the stairs and into my bedroom. I set her down, balancing her feet on the floor, and closed the door behind us.

"So what brought this on?" Bella asked. "We've still got another week…"

"That's not it," I said. As eager as I was for her monthly visitor to return, I was just as excited about this new possibility. "This blouse looks absolutely exquisite on you." I fingered the fabric on her shoulders. It was almost as silky as her skin.

"Oh! I'm—uh—glad you like it," She seemed flustered by my intense stare.

"I wanted to ask you…" Oh, God, how do I put this? I now understood how difficult it must have been for Bella to initiate our recent explorations. My respect and admiration for her, which I'd thought limitless, grew. "Here, let's sit down." I led her to the bed, hoping that the implications of sitting on a bed together would help me to communicate my intentions. Maybe it would mean less would have to be said aloud.

"I know we've taken some steps in our relationship recently," I began. She smiled broadly, nodding. I smiled back. "And it's been wonderful. There's something else I'd like us to try, if it's all right with you."

"Sure, what?" she seemed excited at the prospect, and surprised that I would ask for such a thing.

The positive response melted most of my anxieties. But still, I found myself unable to articulate my desires. To say "take your shirt off" seemed so wrong. I didn't want to begin there anyway. I wanted to take it slow.

"Can we start this way?" I asked, leaning toward her for a kiss. Maybe there was something slightly cowardly about doing it like this, rather than discussing it like adults, but it also seemed more romantic. Maybe that was why she'd done the same thing with me (several times).

She met me in the middle, draping her arms loosely around my neck. It was almost as if she knew what was coming; that position opened her chest up to me, inviting me in. Controlling myself, I put my hands on her waist and slowly trailed them up her sides as we continued to kiss softly. I was careful that the shirt stayed where it was as my hands traveled north. When I reached her rib cage, I moved my hands around to her back, where they cradled her shoulder blades. Our kiss was deepening, and I knew that soon she'd want to lie down; I didn't have much time. I decided which hand would make the first move. Bella was sitting on my right, so I wrapped my right arm more tightly around her back. I moved my left hand to the spot right under her arm—I could feel the elastic of her bra through the thin blouse.

I could not allow myself to proceed without permission, much as my body resented the interruption. I broke the kiss, resting my forehead on hers. From this angle, when I opened my eyes, I could see down the shirt, into the small, secret place in the middle…

Breathlessly, I asked simply, "May I?" moving that hand forward only the slightest fraction of an inch to let her know what I meant.

She moved her head back and looked in my eyes. I saw surprise there, as well as excitement and desire. Her mouth opened a little, and she nodded swiftly.

I leaned into her so we were cheek to cheek, as I slowly pulled my palm forward. I put no pressure on her body; I merely wanted to brush my hand along her curves. My palm traveled across the fullest part of her; she was perfectly round. As my thumb reached the valley in the middle, my fingertips remained on the side: she fit perfectly in my hand. She leaned forward, pressing herself into my hand. Her flesh yielded, cushioning my fingers.

I pulled that hand away, shifting us. My right hand was aching for its turn.

I repeated the motion on the other side, with the same results. She seemed to want me to apply pressure to her. I could comply. I curved my fingertips in, just a little, remembering how fragile she was. Her breathing changed; it seemed she liked it. I pulled my palm away slowly, maintaining the pressure in my fingertips as they moved toward the top of her mound. Then I reversed the motion, touching her with my fingertips and opening them until my palm came into contact with her body.

I found the strength to kiss her on the lips while touching her. The kisses had to be soft and controlled; I felt like my attention was split in two. My touches were prodding, experimental. I stroked her breast, from collarbone to hip. Then I kneaded it, testing its softness with my fingers and palm. Then I simply held it, resting my hand underneath it and measuring its weight. All of these actions were repeated on both sides, with both hands simultaneously.

The emotion that came with our connection was overwhelming me. When it became too much, I brought one hand up to her face to help me to focus more on_ her_ than on her body. I needed her to know I'd asked for this because I loved her. It was because of my devotion and commitment to her that I'd needed so badly to feel her body. Now that need had been assuaged. If we stopped here, I'd be satisfied, I told myself.

I wanted to ask her for more, though. Just to ask her. There had been so many times when she'd asked me to express our love physically and I'd refused her, causing her to feel rejected and humiliated. Most guys got to pursue their girlfriends and make them feel desired, and until now I'd never been confident enough in my control to allow myself to initiate anything. If there was even a chance she wanted this too, I owed it to her to give her the choice. That's what I told myself, anyway. In truth, I wanted more as well.

I pulled my lips away, pressing my face against hers. My cheekbone fit perfectly in the hollow of her eye. Slowly, I trailed my hand down from her cheek, down her neck, onto the expanse of skin above the low neckline of her shirt, toward the center where those tantalizing buttons were.

She pulled back to look at me, and I boldly left my hand where it was.

"May I?" I whispered again, touching the top button.

Her eyes meeting mine squarely but shyly, she nodded again as I leaned in toward her. I kissed, not her lips, but the very corner of her mouth, then trailed my lips along the same path my hand had just taken, as the first button gave. I left the shirt as it was; I wanted to see the full effect as each individual button revealed additional inches of her lovely body. As I pressed my lips to her neck and collarbone, her breathing accelerated, causing her breasts to move up and down in the most alluring way. I kissed slowly along the neckline of the shirt, then returned to the middle to watch as the second button left its buttonhole.

More of the space between her breasts was revealed; it was soft there, and so close to her beating heart. I pressed a kiss in that secret place, the lowest exposed by the blouse, darting my tongue out to taste her skin. Her fingers underneath my chin pulled my eyes, then my lips, up to hers. While we kissed, I slipped one hand into the expanded neckline of the shirt; my fingers fanned out so that my forefinger traced her collarbone and the smallest one touched the outline of her bra. I couldn't resist then. My hand reached down and tweaked open the next button, and the next. And then, of course, I had to examine this new territory.

I could see her bra. It was simple white cotton; the practicality and innocence of the undergarment fit her perfectly. My hands on either side of her ribs, I gently pulled her up, angling her body for me, as I buried my face in her cleavage, trailing kisses left and right along the lining of the bra.

The shirt was almost completely undone; the only place left for it to reveal was her stomach. I wanted to open it the rest of the way and kiss her abdomen, but we were still sitting up, and I knew it wouldn't be comfortable for either of us if I tried that from this position. I made fast work of the rest of the buttons, kissing her lips all the while. When I finished, I took her face in my hands for a moment, savoring her generous lips. She gave me so much of herself in her kisses. I rested my forehead against hers as I trailed my hands from her cheeks to her shoulders, and down her arms, taking the blouse with them.

She pulled away and gave me a bold, honest look as she lay down, pulling me with her.

Lying there on my bed, we continued to kiss, her on her back, me on my side, my hands running all over the skin she'd exposed to me. The curve of her waist was a new favorite spot. Unexpectedly, I felt her hands on the back of my shirt, gathering the cloth into her fists. She was pulling it up my back—she wanted me shirtless too. I sat up and grinned at her, crossing my arms to pull the offending garment off, flinging it away.

When I lay down next to her again, her hands explored my chest the way I'd already explored hers. I leaned back to give her room to do so. There was just so much skin! An infinite number of points of contact. I was used to having at least two layers of cloth between us and the abrupt increase in sensitivity overwhelmed me.

Hovering over her, I trailed kisses down her neck and into that beautiful hollow over her heart. I continued down and ran my lips over the fine hairs that led from the center of her bra to her navel. I swirled my tongue around it, then moved along her waistband to one side, kissing back up along the inward arc between her hips and ribs. Her hands were on my shoulders and in my hair all the while, encouraging me as I repeated the move on the other side.

When I had paid due homage to Bella's stomach, I gave her a peck on the lips and returned my attention to her breasts. I kissed along the lining of her bra on one side, while massaging the other. I even nuzzled her bra cup with my face a little, running my nose along the fullest part. I was getting quite carried away.

Then her hand was on my shoulder, pushing me back gently. I sat up, and Bella did too. Her eyes locked on mine, she reached around her back. She was unclasping her bra, I realized. Determinedly, I kept my eyes on hers; I refused to stare at her body greedily, as if she were a mere object. I'd pushed her far enough; if she was doing merely this to please me, or because my actions seemed to beg for it, I'd never forgive myself. There was a touch of insecurity in her gaze, and it made me want to reassure her that nothing could change my love for her. She tossed the bra aside. Still looking intently into my eyes, she leaned back, reaching her arms out for me. I moved to lie on top of her, balancing most of my weight on my elbows, kissing her deeply. All of the skin of our chests was in contact, and a good amount of my concentration was spent on savoring the way it felt, though my hands stayed tangled in her long hair.

Finally, she pulled her lips away, breathless, and I rested my forehead on hers. I looked down and saw our chests pushed together, her flesh full and covered in goosebumps. I almost groaned, and let my head fall to her neck, which I kissed.

"I love you, Bella," I whispered in her ear. Slowly, I moved down to see her and moaned at the sight of her revealed. Reverently, I kissed the center of her chest, marveling at how soft the skin was there. With my hand, I gently touched the skin that had been covered by her bra, applying no pressure. I traced my fingers around the pink circles on the tips, before bringing my hand into full contact with the soft mound of flesh. She sighed. I repeated some of the motions I'd used when she'd been clothed, kneading and massaging. I leaned down and rubbed my cheek against her, as I kissed the soft rise of her flesh. Finally I gained the courage to latch onto a nipple, kissing it, licking around it in a circle, watching it grow. I ran my tongue around the underside of her breast and heard her moan.

"You're driving me crazy!" Bella cried. Her voice had a frustrated edge that I hadn't heard in a while, not since before her last period began, actually. Her hips moved erratically as she tried to create friction between her legs and mine. She wanted release, I realized. I had been selfishly teasing her for almost an hour now, exploring her body for my own gratification, while for her this was torturous.

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Touch me, Edward. Please." She pleaded, pulling at the button on her jeans with one hand.

I helped her unfasten and pull down the pants, dropping occasional kisses on random spots on her face, neck and shoulders. I brushed my hand up her thighs, and finally rested it on the little triangle where her legs came together, still covered by a scrap of cotton. She moaned and pulled her legs apart so that my fingers fell between them. I tentatively moved my fingers a little, to test if this was what she wanted. Her hips bucked forward, and she asked me to go underneath her panties. I complied, thrilled. My middle finger seemed to have a mind of its own; it delved under the thin fabric, through Bella's magnificent folds, and directly into her hot slit, burying itself inside her as deep as it would go. It met no resistance at all; Bella was warm and wet and so very open to me. She gasped, and I cursed myself for pushing myself on her like that. I knew that her pleasure would not come from touching that place, but from another spot; putting my finger inside her merely assuaged my own ache to penetrate her, to feel her all around me. Again, I was being selfish. I removed my finger quickly, but as I did so, I felt her body contract around it. I was afraid to even begin to contemplate the erotic possibilities inherent in those pliant muscles.

As I began stroking her, searching for the bundle of nerves that was the key to her satisfaction, Bella turned her face into my neck. I nudged her with my nose, to try to pull her from that hiding place. When our eyes met, we were drawn to each others' lips, the intimacy of our bodies' connection making further contact irresistible. She broke the kiss only briefly, to arrange our bodies in a way that allowed me to give her a remarkable amount of erotic stimulation. My right hand stroked her moist sex, while my left reached around her body to massage first one breast, then the other, and my mouth covered hers with kisses. Her arms were around my shoulders, her hands buried in my hair or stroking my face.

This was different from exploring her with my mouth, as I'd done on the nights when she had offered me her monthly blood. It was easier to resist biting her, of course, and this allowed me to concentrate more fully on her reactions to me, and also on the enjoyment I received from touching her with my hands and lips. I liked this position because it seemed to allow her to participate more actively in her own pleasure. I liked using both my hands _and_ my mouth on her at the same time. And I loved feeling her kiss me while I pleased her.

It was through her kiss that I realized it when she was close to completion. Her lips began to tremble, and the slightest bit of sound came from behind them, a whimper or a sigh. I sped up the circular movements my fingers were making on her most sensitive area, paid extra attention to her nipple with my left hand, and infused my kiss with all the love I felt for her.

Suddenly, her hand moved from my shoulders toward my hips, and she grasped my arousal through my khakis.

I froze. She was not in control, as she had been the other times when I let her touch me.

She moaned in frustration, gyrating her hips even more erratically, and I knew I was delaying, perhaps preventing, her release. I forced myself to regain control, then resumed my ministrations—all of them—with renewed fervor. I even let myself go enough to move my hips a little into her hand, creating friction that felt amazing. When I moaned, she did too, and I knew she'd come.

After she came down from her high, she turned breathlessly, and buried herself in my chest. We lay on our sides, holding each other tightly; only her tiny panties covered her, and I wore just my pants. I could not resist running my hands up and down her body. This position exposed her rear end to the air, positioning it perfectly for me to touch it, to test its texture and consistency.

"I'm sorry I stopped…"

"Oh, shush. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I took you by surprise. I know that makes things hard for you."

"That's no excuse…"

"I said, shush! I'm glowing here, all right? Stop interrupting!" She gave me a playful slap on the chest and buried her face in my shoulder. I laughed softly. I loved her spunky attitude, and the idea that her pleasure had been so great that she wanted to bask in it a while was immensely gratifying.

I felt so incredibly lucky. Not only did I have a beautiful fiancé who I connected with mentally and emotionally, who I could talk to for weeks on end without getting bored, she loved me enough to face injury to give me the priceless gift of her body, something I had never dared to hope was possible for us. I opened my mouth to thank her, and she cut me off.

"Don't you dare try to thank me, Edward Cullen!" Her finger poked my chest. She had adopted that fierce, angry kitten tone. "When are you going to understand that I like it too, that it's just as much a gift for me as it is for you, no matter which of us gets off? You can't thank me for something that's already yours!"

I supposed she did have a point, and I could imagine it might get old hearing me say 'thank you' all the time. However, I wanted to assert my right to express my appreciation for her. "I know, but I just want to let you know that I'm grateful for your continuing gifts of yourself. Just because you're already mine doesn't mean I'm going to take you for granted."

I knew we were just getting started, but before she could respond, my phone buzzed. I sat up to check it, and Bella rolled over onto her back, covering herself modestly.

There was a text from Alice: "We're 15 minutes away. Emmett wants to know what base you're on now."

I laughed. I was in such a great mood not even my brother's boorishness could bother me. I tossed Bella her clothes. "Company's coming."

As she dressed, I texted Emmett directly to answer his question: "It's not a game; it's a symphony. Third movement."

When my siblings walked in, Bella and I were seated at my piano, her eyes watching my hands as I played a song that riffed on the melody of her lullaby, but had a higher tempo, and the key was major instead of minor. While the ending of the lullaby was slow, melancholy and restrained, delicately balanced between impossibilities, frozen in a moment of wonder and mourning, this song ended more hopefully. This new song had sensuous movement and energy; it was going forward determinedly toward a consummation that the lullaby denied. My fingers could barely keep up with it. It was about accepting change, eyes wide open, without denying the sacrifice it entailed, but with the conviction that it was worth it.

I touched the last key with my middle finger, and immediately heard the clapping and cheering of my siblings behind us. Bella heard them too and blushed. But before I could scold them for embarrassing her, Bella grabbed my chin boldly and pressed her lips to mine. Soon I was too caught up in kissing her to remember why I'd been bothered.

Just as the kiss was ending, I heard Emmett cracking up.

"I think I know who's conducting this symphony," he choked out between loud laughs.

I was surprised to find that I wasn't even annoyed. Emmett had simply stated the truth. Bella was in charge, guiding me, leading the music of our love to ever greater levels of beauty. I could never deny it, and I was far from being ashamed of it. When I put my trust in her, it was the best thing I ever did.


	8. Second Base BPOV

Second base BPOV

I opened my closet to look for something to wear. I wanted to look good today. Edward had been away hunting all weekend, and this trip had marked the first nights we'd been apart since we began experimenting about three weeks ago.

A bright blue silky blouse caught my eye. Alice had bought it for me a week or so ago on one of her epic shopping trips. Edward liked me in blue, so I put it on with my skinny jeans, and a favorite pair of earrings.

I was a little surprised when I looked in the mirror. The top was a little tighter, and much lower-cut than I was used to. But I thought I'd remembered Alice saying that Edward was sure to love it, so I left it on. She would know, after all. I grabbed a granola bar in the kitchen and headed to my truck.

When I pulled into the parking lot, Edward was waiting for me near where I normally parked, standing by Alice. My face broke out into a smile as soon as I saw him. I parked the truck as quickly as I could and jumped out.

As soon as I was close, I started talking. I had so much to tell my fiancé; it had been a particularly eventful weekend and I didn't usually go so long without talking to Edward. I didn't let him say a word until we were settled in our English classroom and the bell was about to ring.

"Nice shirt," he said. His voice sounded weird as he complimented me, like it was caught in his throat, and he was looking at Mr. McDonough sitting at his desk, rather than at me.

"Thanks!" I responded, looking down at myself. Maybe the blouse wasn't as revealing as I thought. "Alice got it for me." I informed him.

As we went from class to class, Edward seemed stiffer than usual. His movements were more guarded. I couldn't quite figure it out, and I thought I was probably imagining it. By the time Edward and I split up for our different classes, I had dismissed my observations completely.

"I have to talk to you," Angela whispered to me on our way from our journalism class to the cafeteria. Her tone was secretive and I could tell she meant for us to be alone.

"Ok," I said, as we claimed a corner table for ourselves. We made small talk as we went through the line, then sat down with our food. I sat back to peel my orange, raising my eyebrows in a silent question.

"On Saturday, I went over Ben's house, and we were alone there all afternoon."

My eyes widened. I was surprised Angela's parents would have allowed such a thing. Her dad was a minister and they'd been very strict with the rules for her relationship with Ben. She'd griped to me several times about how difficult it was to get any alone time with her boyfriend. "What did you all do?" I asked, intrigued.

"We kissed for about a solid hour!" she gushed. I giggled in response. It was rare to see Angela so excited, and I was happy for her; she deserved to have fun and feel loved.

"Details!" I egged her on.

"We were watching TV on the couch, and then his mom left the house, and we just looked at each other and I could tell he thought of it too…"

"I think we're alone now…" I sang the chorus of an old 80's song.

Angela danced in her chair and finished the line with me, "There doesn't seem to be anyone around…" We giggled some more. I knew we were being a little childish, but it felt good to act my age for once. No insane vampires trying to kill me, just my best (human) girl friend and I talking about boys.

"And then?" I prodded.

"Then he started kissing my neck and before I knew it we were lying down on the couch!"

I recalled her father's "three feet on the ground" rule. Angela had really been quite rebellious this weekend!

But there was more. She leaned closer. "And then, I felt his hands just below my breasts."

My eyes widened. "Did you let him…"

She nodded. "I had the quickest moment of indecision, and then I knew I wanted him to. He'd said some of the sweetest things, and, to tell you the truth, my body was just aching for it."

"Yeah," I said, thinking of the way Edward made me feel. "Did you take your shirt off?" I whispered. Now that I thought of it, that was something Edward and I had never done…

She shook her head. "I was afraid we'd get caught. But he did put his hand underneath it a little. No, actually, a lot!" she giggled, then paused for effect. "And then, his hand was on the button of my jeans."

I was really surprised at this. Did Angela and Ben have_ sex_ this weekend? Preacher's daughter Angela beat _me_ to it? Me, who had used my monthly blood to seduce my vampire boyfriend into performing oral sex? Whose killer hand job skills had broken a lamp? I felt sure if they'd really done _it_, Angela would have started out with this fact rather than telling the story from the beginning the way she had. I think the look on my face must have shown my shock, because she rushed to reassure me.

"Just let me tell you what happened. It's not what you're thinking." She began again. "We'd been kissing so hard and so long and he was on top of me, and I could feel _him_, you know, pressed between my legs, and it felt _good_. It felt _really_ good, and my hips were moving against him without me even really meaning them to, and then he put his hand on the button of my jeans. We stopped kissing and just looked at each other for a long time, catching our breaths and trying to think rationally. He said, 'I just want to touch you,' and I trusted him. I believed him when he said that's all we would do."

I wasn't sure what do think of that. The way she said it made me think that this _wasn't_ all they had done, but her tone was still happy; she didn't seem to think he'd betrayed her or anything. "What did you do?" I asked.

"I was so turned on I just couldn't say no. I asked him about his mom, to make sure we wouldn't get caught, and he said he was sure she wouldn't be back for at least two hours, so I let him."

"Wow," I said. "How was it?"

"Amazing," she sighed. Her voice lowered so that I could barely hear her. "I think I had an _orgasm_," she whispered.

I squealed in delight for her, then covered my mouth, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.

"His fingers were so nimble," she giggled. "I think it's because he plays video games."

I laughed aloud, thinking of Edward's piano, confident my fiance's hands were even more talented than Ben's.

But Angela wasn't finished. "And then afterward, we were just lying there, and he was being so sweet, saying how happy he was and what a privilege it was that I let him touch me like that, and I wanted to, you know, do something for him too, like he'd done for me."

I gasped. I knew exactly the urge Angela was talking about. I had acted on it myself. "Did you touch_ him_, then?" I asked.

"Well, yes, and—" she paused and looked a little uncomfortable. "I used my mouth."

I felt a flash of heat wash over my face, and I knew it was partly from the embarrassment I felt to be discussing such topics, but the other part of it was jealousy. I was jealous of my best friend Angela and her human boyfriend. Lucky Ben had no reason to fear he would inadvertently skewer his girlfriend's brains if she sucked him off. Lucky Angela got to worship her boyfriend's body without fearing for her life. She didn't have to be so careful that the whole thing seemed almost clinical. They didn't have to have endless discussions to convince each other that it was possible for them to have a sex life at all. They just did it. How nice for them.

"And how was that?" I asked, hoping my voice was even. I wanted to be encouraging and happy for Angela. It wouldn't be right if my pettiness spoiled this for her. I popped an orange slice in my mouth, feigning nonchalance.

"It was great. He absolutely loved it. It took some getting used to, but, yeah, I liked it. I didn't swallow though." She wrinkled her nose a little.

"Oh."

"It was the first time, you know, and I didn't know what to expect. I will sometime, I guess."

There was another pang of jealousy. Mr. Human's spunk wasn't poisonous. If she wanted, Miss Human, his lucky girlfriend, could swallow buckets of it without experiencing unknown, but surely severe, side effects.

"What about you and Edward?" Angela asked. "I've talked your ear off here and you've never told me anything about what you two do. You're engaged; this stuff probably seems like last year's news to you." She seemed embarrassed now, and I knew she'd picked up on my mood. I felt like a jerk, but the only way to salvage the situation was to confide in her the way she had in me.

"Well, we have stuck to the plan," I started. "We're still waiting." Angela knew what I meant because soon after announcing my engagement, I'd had a great heart-to-heart with her about waiting for marriage to have sex. It had been just what I needed at the time; she really helped me solidify my resolve.

"That's great," she grinned, "But are you doing other things?"

I grinned back, just remembering for a minute. "Well, it's kind of like you and Ben," I said slowly, "except he used his mouth on me."

"Oh my word!" Angela gasped, and I laughed at what I called her "preacher's daughter curse." "And he liked that?" she questioned, confused. Despite her eventful weekend, Angela had much left to learn, and many inhibitions left to lose, I realized. That made me feel worldly and grown-up, which, since I'm so petty, assuaged my jealousy a bit.

"Oh yeah," I assured her. "he liked it."

"It wasn't…messy?" Her face was scrunched up in distaste.

I almost laughed. It had most certainly been messy, but that was Edward's favorite part! "A little bit, but he didn't mind."

"It wasn't smelly?" she asked again. I wondered what she'd been taught about her body, that she was so concerned about the smell and "mess" created by normal body fluids. It gave me the urge to shock her.

I leaned in close. "He likes the smell."

Angela reddened and sputtered. "I'm sorry," she said to her lap after a pause. "You must think I'm a naïve little yokel."

I rolled my eyes. I would not have her disparaging herself like that. "And you must think I'm a shameless hussy." I teased.

She laughed. "Of course not! You're engaged, after all!" Her face changed, got more serious. "And it would be ok if you weren't, too," she said, more to herself than to me, I suspected.

"Hey," I touched her hand, "You don't feel guilty, do you?" I hoped that someday Angela would be confident enough in her body and secure enough in her sexuality that she could experience what I had (minus the blood, of course), but until then I wanted to make sure she didn't spoil her memory of the most intimate experience of her young life with needless regret.

She gave me a sad smile. "Well, I know my parents wouldn't like it if they knew, and I do sort of feel guilty about that aspect of it, but I can't bring myself to think it was _wrong_. I love him and he said he loves me and I believe him, and in the moment it just felt so right."

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. "Do you think you two will get married someday?" I asked, feeling silly the minute it was past my lips.

"Oh, I don't know about that." She looked sheepish, as if she were afraid to offend me by saying she wasn't ready for marriage. "We're not like you and Edward. We're young, and there's no way to know if it'll work out for us in the end. There are just so many variables with college and jobs and stuff, but right now…I hope he will turn out to be the one." Her smile was broad and blissful. "I'm glad we didn't go any further, just in case it doesn't work out in the long run, but right now, I'm so happy we…shared that." Her smile became softer, more secretive and adult. "I can't imagine I'll ever regret it."

"Yeah," I agreed dreamily, thinking of the kisses I shared with Edward just after one of us had climaxed.

"So you and Edward have been enjoying yourselves?" she asked coyly, sipping from her drink. She must have caught that look on my face.

"Oh yes," I searched my mind for a piece of information I could give her—something intimate, but not too intimate, and most importantly, something that would not give away the secret. I settled on vagueness. "He's so eager to please me. He always wants to make me feel good; he's always saying something romantic that just makes me melt. And then when I…do things for him, he's so grateful it just…"

"Kind of makes you overflow inside," she finished.

"Yeah," I agreed. That worked as well as anything.

I looked up and saw that people were gathering their things; lunch would be over in less than a minute. I pulled my bag over my shoulder and followed Angela to throw out our trash. I gave her a small hug before we parted at the door.

"Enjoy it, all right?" I told her.

"Yeah," she replied, grinning. "You too!"

I went down the hall and up the stairs to Calculus. Only a minute after I sat down, Edward came and fell into the chair beside mine.

"Come to my house after school," His voice was insistent; there was even a hint of begging in it.

"Um, ok" I replied, slightly confused about why he was using such an imperative tone. He knew I would go along with him no matter what he wanted to do. "Any reason?"

"Because I cannot wait until Charlie goes to sleep." His jaw was clenched, and the words barely made it past his lips.

"Oh!" He was that worked up just because he wanted to be alone with me? What was I in for this afternoon?

And, damn, but his jaw looked sexy all tensed like that.

I knew the color of my face gave away my thoughts to the whole class. I could not concentrate on the lesson, and knew I'd have to teach it to myself later.

As soon as school was over, Edward grabbed my hand and led me out of the building. I really had to work to keep up with him. When we walked right past my truck in the parking lot, I questioned him and he said we'd pick it up later. When he started the Volvo without waiting for Alice and the others, I asked about that too, and he dismissed his siblings casually.

This was Edward-on-a-mission, single-minded in pursuit of one all-important goal. It was totally hot, but also a little intimidating. I hoped I could handle whatever he had in mind.

I barely had time to notice that he'd turned off the Volvo's engine, when suddenly I found myself in his bedroom. He'd carried me upstairs at vampire speed. He set me down, and I held his shoulders for a second to help me balance.

"What brought this on?" I asked. My curiosity was getting unbearable. I only had one idea of what he might be thinking of doing, and it didn't seem likely. "We've still got another week…"

"That's not it," Edward replied, looking down at me with his eyes bright and intense. He touched my shoulder, rolling the fabric of my blouse between his fingers. "This blouse looks absolutely exquisite on you."

His voice melted me, and I found myself incapable of coherent speech. "Oh! I'm—uh—glad you like it," It was humiliating how he would make me act so foolish sometimes!

"I wanted to ask you," he began, and paused. He seemed to think better of what he'd been about to say. Before I could question him, he invited me to sit on the bed with him. He was being oddly formal, I thought.

"I know we've taken some steps in our relationship recently," Edward said. It was like he was submitting a proposal to a committee or something.

I nodded, smiling, to encourage him. If this had anything to do with our latest experimentations, it could not be a bad thing.

He grinned back at me. "And it's been wonderful." His tone warmed, and I was glad I'd broken through the façade of his formality. "There's something else I'd like us to try, if it's all right with you."

Something else? I wondered, excitement shooting through me. Something new? Was he actually advancing our physical relationship himself? It felt so good to be pursued for once, rather than to be constantly propositioning him. I remembered Angela's gift to Ben, and reminded myself not to get my hopes up. There was no way Edward would allow that, and he would be too much of a gentleman to suggest such a thing himself anyway. What else might he want to do?

"Sure, what?" I asked, suppressing my urge to bounce on the bed.

He paused again; I could see him struggling with his early-20th-century reticence. "Can we start this way?" he moved forward, eyes on my lips. I met him halfway, full of anticipation. Not knowing what to expect from him made me alert and hyper-sensitive to his touches and kisses. I rested my wrists on his shoulders as we kissed, his tongue darting out to taste my lower lip. His hands caressed my sides and back as the kiss deepened. I wanted to recline and luxuriate in his arms like this for hours, my body completely relaxed. As I was about to lean back, I felt his arms tense around me, anchoring me in place sitting up.

Suddenly, he broke the kiss and touched his forehead to mine.

"May I?" His hand moved on me, drawing my attention to its position: just to the side of my breast.

He wanted to touch me.

Disbelieving, I pulled back to look at him. Was he really asking to touch my breast? Didn't he know that my body belonged utterly to him, from the hand that had pleasured him, to the heartbeat he would end someday? His tongue had been inside me, for god's sake!

And yet, the thought of those slim, talented fingers on my curves, exploring the one part of my body they'd never touched, drove me wild.

I could not think of a strong enough affirmative.

I opened my mouth to say, "Of course!" but my voice betrayed me. I didn't trust myself not to squeak, so I just nodded, hoping the rapid movements of my chin would communicate my eagerness.

I wanted to kiss him, but he rested his cheek against mine instead, as he moved his hand forward at an agonizingly slow pace. His touch was feather light, which was sweet, but frustrating; I wanted to feel him solidly gripping me, imposing himself on me. When his hand was aligned, I moved into it, wanting to feel my body yield to his hard hands. I almost moaned, but, thankfully, my voice was still out of commission.

And then his hand was gone. Before I could pull away to question him, I felt his other hand on my left side, preparing to repeat the maneuver. He was being very methodical about this.

When I pushed into his palm again, he seemed to get the picture, and began to use more force. I felt my heart racing; the feeling was wonderful. He made a pattern with his fingertips, tracing from the edges to the tip, and then back. He cupped me and moved his hand in circles over me.

Our lips found each other and we began to kiss while his hands explored me. I felt his lip trembling and reminded myself to keep the kiss light for his sake. He held me around the back with one arm, while the other hand caressed and massaged me. I loved feeling that pressure on my rib cage from both sides; Edward's focus on my body was so intense. My upper body loosened under his hands and my back arched into him. I felt that familiar tightening between my legs as his hands worked their magic on me.

I felt his hand on my cheek and neck, and the emotion that came into our kiss in that moment nearly brought tears to my eyes. I suddenly understood one of the reasons behind his hesitation in our physical relationship. Just as his love for me outweighed his thirst for my blood, it also outweighed his lust for my body. He never wanted to make me feel used or objectified or pressured. As if he could. Even if he did let his lust take over sometime, chances were, I'd like it. His concern was needless, of course, but sweet just the same.

He broke the kiss again, and his cheek took the place of the palm that had been cradling my face. I took the chance to catch my breath. With my attention no longer split between my lips and my breasts, I was able to notice the soft touch of Edward's fingertips as they traveled down my neck and finally came to rest on the top button of my blouse.

Oh, my God. He wanted to take my shirt off.

I was so shocked at this very un-Edward-like behavior that I pulled away to look at him.

"May I?" he repeated. His eyes brimmed with sincerity.

I nodded again. As his fingers fumbled with the button, he leaned in to kiss me, but his lips landed on the edge of my mouth, teasing me. It took him a surprisingly long time to unfasten that button; I thought I might have detected a slight tremor in his fingers. While I waited eagerly for him to reveal my cleavage, his lips moved down my jaw and to my neck. Thrilled, I sat up straighter, making it easier for him to reach me as he kissed the soft skin over my breastbone. Finally, the button gave, and he pressed his lips to the lowest spot revealed. It made me gasp, clutching his hair. My panties were more than a little damp. Then he traced the wide, round neckline of the blouse with his lips, until he kissed my collarbone. By the time he reached my shoulder, the second button was undone. With aching slowness, he made his way back down to the area so recently covered by my shirt. Upon arriving in the center, his eyes closed reverently, and he seemed to take a moment to prepare himself before brushing his slightly open mouth across the valley between my breasts.

I needed nothing more than to kiss him, to show him how glad I was that he enjoyed my body this way, how elated I was to have the chance to give this part of me to him too. I found his chin with my fingers and pressed up on it. For a second I thought he might ignore me or not notice, he was so intent on kissing my cleavage. But he did come up, meeting my eyes with a gaze that electrified me before crashing his lips against mine.

As his tongue entered my mouth, I felt a soft touch on the skin just above my right breast. There was chilly air on my chest, and I knew Edward had unbuttoned my shirt even more. By now my bra would be showing. I cursed myself for wearing a plain white cotton bra, rather than some of the more interesting lingerie Alice had bought me.

His hands were in a new position by now, thumbs just under my breasts and fingers wrapping around the sides of my rib cage. It made my body feel so small to be encompassed by him this way. He used this tight hold to pull me up to him, meeting his lips halfway. In the second before his mouth touched the spot right above the middle of my bra, I saw his eyes looking at my chest as if it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He kissed every inch of my breast that was not covered by the bra, moving rapidly from the left to the right. I felt his fingers near my stomach, working on the remaining buttons. This is really happening, I told myself. Edward is taking my shirt off.

He gathered me to him again, placing his palms on my cheeks and bringing my lips to his. There was that same sort of gratitude in his kiss that I usually felt only after touching him and giving him pleasure.

He touched his forehead to mine, as we both caught our breath. His hands slipped from my cheeks, resting near my neck for an instant. Then, with a deep exhalation, he nudged the blouse past the tips of my shoulders. It fell around my wrists and I slipped them out of it.

I gathered my courage. It was time to let him see all of me. I met his eyes with all the confidence I could muster as I leaned back onto the pillows. He followed eagerly.

His hands traveled lightly all over my body, touching my stomach as well as my breasts. It felt like he was positively worshipping me; it was marvelous. We kept kissing all the time, light, short meetings of our lips full of tenderness and care.

Feeling mischievous, I pulled at his shirt until it was all gathered under his arms. When he figured out what I wanted, he sat up with that crooked smile on his face. I watched his stomach muscles contract as he crossed his arms to pull the shirt over his head. I'd seen Edward shirtless a few times, but each time he took my breath away. Coming at a time when I was already so aroused, it was almost too much. I couldn't resist touching his chest, stomach and back, marveling at the hard solidity underneath the smooth texture of his skin. His arms tightened around me and I felt our torsos come into contact.

He rolled us a little, so I was on my back and he balanced over me on his hands and knees. Beginning with my jaw, he kissed a straight line down to the button of my jeans, interrupted only by the tiny strip of fabric in the center of my bra. I found myself grinning broadly as I touched his neck and hair. It tickled a little as he traveled around my side. I was glad I was lying flat; it made the small pinch of fat between my belly button and the waistband of my jeans just about disappear. When he kissed that area, it made me ache with the memory of those lips just a little further down, his eyes peering up at me from between my legs…

After he seemed to judge himself finished with my stomach, he gave me a quick kiss on the mouth with an impish smile, then arranged himself on top of me again. He settled his elbows at my sides so that his face balanced just above my breasts, and continued kissing all the exposed skin in the area. The gathering feeling in my core was rapidly intensifying. When he rubbed his face over my bra, pressing with his nose almost exactly into my nipple, that was when I decided: even this small piece of fabric was too much of a barrier between us. I wanted him to have free rein over my entire body.

I pushed on his shoulder to get his attention, then sat up, my heart pounding. I was a little nervous; I couldn't help comparing my body to Rosalie's, and to the mental image I had of perfect Tanya. My breasts were small, and more pointed than round. They weren't much to look at, but they were his.

I reached behind me and found the clasp of my bra. Edward's eyes never left mine. His gaze was intense, and I thought I saw his throat move as he swallowed, preparing himself. There was that same look of determination and respect on his face. After I'd thrown the bra to the floor, I opened my arms to him, inviting him in.

He lay on top of me, lightly—he almost never put his full weight on me, not that he was very heavy—and we kissed deeply, our tongues caressing each other. I felt my nipples hardening from being in contact with his cold chest. The kiss went on and on, driving straight through me from my lips to my sex, where my heat was reaching a dangerous level. After a while I couldn't take it anymore, and ripped my lips away from his.

Edward paused, touching his forehead to mine. Then I felt his lips on my neck and his soft declaration of love in my ear, and he was going down, bringing his face level with my newly exposed breasts. He touched me lightly, watching the skin change color and break out in goosebumps. His hands gripped me firmly, massaging with soothing circular motions. He gathered my flesh in both hands, pressing it to the center and creating a tight crevice into which he buried his nose.

It went on and on—he used his mouth as well as his hands on me, stroking and even licking my sensitive skin until I was soft and pliable like putty. It was not just the wonderful physical sensations that were turning me on so much, but the love and tenderness he was communicating with every touch. My hips were pinned under his stomach, and the sensations shooting through my body were making them tremble and jerk, seeking contact, seeking release, seeking _him._ When his lips and tongue came in contact with my stiff nipples, it finally became too much.

"You're driving me crazy!" I cried out, unable to restrain myself any longer.

Edward apologized, his face stricken. I was in no mood for any of his guilt and self-flagellation; I just wanted him to finish what he'd started. I ignored his apology and asked him to touch me, unbuttoning my jeans with one hand. He got the picture.

Together we worked to unzip my jeans and pull them off. After he pushed the heavy cloth over my ankle, his hand trailed up my leg, lingering on my thigh and stopping on my mound, cupping me possessively. I parted my legs and his fingers moved on me over my panties and it felt wonderful, but it wasn't enough.

"Touch me under…please…" I whispered. I wasn't quite begging, but I was close.

My core positively ached with being empty. I wanted more than anything to feel him filling me. But I knew—in a detached, intellectual way that had absolutely nothing to do with what my body was telling me—we couldn't do that yet.

As if he'd read my mind, Edward slid a cool finger under my panties and straight inside my opening, making me gasp. Reflexively, my inner walls squeezed him, as if my body wanted to keep him there. However, he quickly withdrew, kissing me apologetically and concentrating his touches on a more sensitive area just above my wet slit. Embarrassed, I buried my face in his neck.

He wouldn't let me conceal myself. He pushed his face into the small space between my cheek and his shoulder, nosing me out of hiding. Our eyes met, and the combination of acceptance and desire I saw overcame me, and then we were kissing again.

This was amazing. Feeling him kiss my lips while his talented fingers worked their magic below my waist—it was indescribable. There was only one thing that could possibly make it better…

I pulled away from his mouth just long enough to arrange his left arm around me, draping it strategically. He understood quickly, tightening his arm around my shoulders and stroking my breast with his gentle hand. This position was too much—I had his lips and both hands working simultaneously on the most sensitive parts of my body. Rather than splitting my attention, the various pleasures he gave me with his hands and lips multiplied and amplified each other, driving me ever more rapidly toward oblivion.

There was only one thing wrong with what we were doing. It was so one-sided; it was all him giving to me, from the moment we got to his room. I wanted more than anything to touch him too, to return some of the pleasure he gave to me, but that wasn't the only reason. I wanted to make him feel as great as I did, sure, but, I realized, I also wanted to touch him because _it turned me on too_. There was no sight I found more erotic than Edward giving himself over to pleasure, no feeling more sexy than the hardness of his shaft in my hand.

And so, when I reached a new level of pleasure, so close to my completion, I could not resist reaching for him.

The second my hand came in contact with his erection through his pants, Edward halted. His left hand stopped pinching my nipple, his lips stopped moving on mine, and, most distressingly, his right hand stopped stroking my clitoris. I should have known he wouldn't be ok with me grabbing him like that! Cursing myself, I moved my hips rapidly against his frozen hand, trying to generate the friction that would take me over the edge.

I saw Edward steel himself and come back to me. His hands moved again, his lips kissed me with renewed fervor, and he even gave a tiny thrust of his hips, pressing himself into my hand. When I found the head and stroked it, he moaned, and that sound was what finally brought me release. I moaned in response, the sound singing straight into Edward's throat. My body filled with tingling heat and I convulsed involuntarily.

I returned to myself with a sigh, and turned immediately to my lover, pressing my face against his cool chest. His hands caressed my backside as we lay there in each others' arms, giving me goosebumps that weren't only from the temperature.

"I'm sorry I stopped…" he began

"Oh, shush." I snapped. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I took you by surprise. I know that makes things hard for you."

"That's no excuse…" he insisted.

"I said, shush! I'm glowing here, all right? Stop interrupting!" I hit his arm and he chuckled. I shifted in his arms, making myself comfortable. I felt so sated and relaxed I almost wanted to take a nap.

For some reason, my conversation with Angela came into my mind, making me feel utterly foolish. I had two separate and opposite revelations:

One: in the past blissful half hour or so, I'd barely thought at all about Edward being a vampire. That situation was so totally under control that it didn't even register, especially in comparison with the intense pleasure I'd experienced. We'd acted just like any normal, human, lust-filled teenage couple! I wasn't missing out on a thing. Thinking of that was so liberating.

And yet, two: Our intimacy had been achieved at great risk and with much effort, and that was what made it so beautiful. The struggles and difficulties Edward and I had endured, the obstacles to our relationship we'd overcome, were not problems at all, but evidence of our love. Knowing how hard it had been for Edward to learn to be close to me, and that he'd fought to do it anyway because he believed I was worth the pain and thirst—that knowledge made all our intimacy an incredible gift, one that most teenage girls would never receive. My jealousy had not just been petty: it was completely wrong-headed. What Edward and I had was better than anything a "normal" teenage couple could ever experience, and now I finally appreciated that.

As I was thinking about this, I felt Edward open his mouth. Tuning back into him, I knew instantly what he was going to say, and I didn't want to hear it.

"Don't you dare try to thank me, Edward Cullen!" I jabbed a finger into his chest. "When are you going to understand that I like it too, that you give just as much to me as I do to you, no matter which of us gets off? You can't thank me for something that's already yours!"

"I know," he said, somewhat sheepishly, "but I just want to let you know that I'm grateful for your continuing gifts of yourself. Just because you're already mine doesn't mean I'm going to take you for granted."

I couldn't really argue too much with that, and since I thought he'd got my message, I was prepared to let it drop. Just then, Edward's phone vibrated with a warning of the impending return of his siblings. We dressed and went downstairs to Edward's piano.

He played a new song for me. I really enjoyed that, if for no other reason than because watching Edward's fingers pounding the keys reminded me how just minutes earlier they had played _me_ so well, allowing me to linger in the pleasure I'd just received. It sounded kind of like my lullaby, but faster, and with a much happier ending. It didn't sort of peter out and give up the way the lullaby did. Instead, there was this sense of resolution. The song was uninhibited, resolute, passionate in an almost wild way. It sounded very—sexy, actually. It somehow made me feel like Edward was really and truly in agreement with my changing, even ready and eager for it, and that was such a relief and a delight to me.

When he finished, I heard a round of applause behind us, and I knew his siblings had heard most of the music. I blushed immediately, knowing the sensuality of the song would probably lead them to make guesses about what Edward and I had been up to. However, I needed to get used to that. Determinedly, I took Edward's chin between my fingers and placed a lingering kiss on his lips.

Emmett's loud laugh sounded behind us. "I think I know who's conducting this symphony," he boomed between guffaws.

Huh? It must have been some Cullen family private joke. I contented myself with the thought that before long, I'd be in on all their secrets and jokes too. This would be my family, and my home. I couldn't wait.


End file.
